


Coffee & Cookies

by isfpancake



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, this is mostly adrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isfpancake/pseuds/isfpancake
Summary: Coffee Shop AU (kinda) where Adrien never went to public school and never met Marinette. When he finds his Ladybug working in a bakery, he sets out to befriend her in the real world.





	1. Eye Contact (Introduction)

The blond boy looked very, very familiar.

Marinette tried not to stare, but it was hard. Not just because he was handsome—and he was handsome—but because she just couldn’t seem to place where she had seen that face. The large black hoodie he had on didn’t help. She couldn’t fathom why he was wearing it. Even if the hot, hot, hot weather couldn’t dissuade him from long sleeves, he had no reason to be wearing a hood inside the coffee shop.

Alya looked back into the kitchen and smirked at Marinette. “Someone catch your eye?” she asked, even though she could obviously tell.

Marinette’s eyes popped to Alya. She hadn’t realized her friend had been watching. “I’m just trying to figure out who he is,” she stammered. “I feel like I’ve seen him before. And why is he wearing a hoodie inside, in this weather?”

Alya looked back at the boy, then back at Marinette. She stifled a giggle. “Maybe he’s a spy and he’s trying to hide,” she suggested.

“Or a terrorist,” Marinette replied drily. “He’s probably just emo.”

“You really don’t recognize him?” Alya asked, like Marinette should really know.

“I don’t! Why? Has he been here before?” Marinette looked back to where he sat reading a comic book at the small table in the corner.

“No,” Alya said unhelpfully, before turning and taking the order of the lady waiting at the register.

Marinette went back to her baking. She finished rolling the last of her almond croissants and slipped them into the oven.

She had started working at the coffee shop/bakery a month ago, at the beginning of the schoolyear. Since it was their senior year, she and Alya had wanted to get jobs together, and Alya—like every other high school senior in Paris—wanted to work in a coffee shop. Marinette didn’t care for coffee, but she could work anywhere with a kitchen, and so the two of them had found work together at a small coffee shop and bakery in a quieter part of the city. Alya was great with customers, her personality mixing well with the caffeine she doled out. Marinette was fine around people, but she found staying in the back and working the craft her parents had raised her on to be relaxing. Plus, because of the wide, open door between the kitchen and the shop, she could people-watch. Croissants in the oven, she found herself staring again.

And then his eyes met hers.

He seemed almost surprised, but then he smiled softly.

Her face turned pink.

She whipped around and began collecting everything she needed for chocolate chip cookies. The display wasn’t empty yet, but it would be eventually—besides, you could never have too many chocolate chip cookies. Crowd favorite. Yup.

Cookies.

She couldn’t believe he’d caught her staring. He had to think she was a creep. _Weird pale girl in the kitchen, stares at customers._ Mixing in the eggs, she kept her head down, trying to hide her blush. She vaguely registered Alya snickering in the background.

* * *

 

Heart pounding, it took all of his focus to keep his eyes on the comic in his hands. Ten seconds ago, he had been wrapped up in the action. Now, however, it couldn’t seem more irrelevant.

            Adrien knew it the moment their eyes met. It was surprising how easy it was to recognize her without her suit, but she still wore her hair in those paintbrush-tip pigtails, and he would know those electric blue eyes anywhere, so bright and yet so soft. And those perfect, petal-pink lips…

            After so long, he had found her.

            He couldn’t believe his good fortune. Of all the coffee shops in Paris, of all the places to hide from his father, she worked here and he ended up hiding in the same building.

            He wasn’t even supposed to be the lucky one in this relationship.

            It had to be karma, rewarding him for all those times he looked the other direction, all those times he didn’t follow her home, two full years of _needing_ to know, but respecting her desire for privacy. Of course all the comic book heroes kept their identities a secret from society, but even from _each other_? He found it unnecessary. And annoying.

            But still, she didn’t want him to know, so he kept back. Even though it killed him inside.

            And she was _baking_! He had thought that Ladybug couldn’t get any more perfect, and yet, there she stood, blushing, with flour on her face, even more perfect than he had known.

            He had no idea how to respond to this serendipity. He had only been seeking an hour or so of peace, and he had quite by accident unmasked his lady. He felt a slight pang of guilt, as if he had purposefully invaded the privacy she had worked so hard to maintain. He argued that it wasn’t his fault. If she hadn’t been staring at him, he wouldn’t have even noticed her.

            He thanked the universe for timing on that one. Imagine, if he had been so close, and had never known.

            But he did know. Should he tell her?

            He quickly vetoed the idea. Maybe it was a double standard, but he didn’t want Ladybug to know who he was. He didn’t want her to know that he had two friends (excluding his kwami), or that he had more money than he really understood, and he definitely didn’t want her to know he was a model. No one ever looked at him the way they looked at other people. Well, no one except Nino, and Adrien was grateful for him. Although…

            It didn’t look like she had recognized him. Not as Chat—not surprising—but not as Adrien Agreste, either. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t care that he was famous.

            _Famous for being good-looking._

            He felt that familiar stab of irritation. Who he was didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that he was fluent in four languages, or that he fenced like a champion, or that he had a comic book collection so big he should have been embarrassed by it.

            He couldn’t even be his own self unless he was decked out in leather and a mask, and even then only one person saw.

            One brave, beautiful, compassionate person.

            No, he couldn’t risk the one friend who only knew him for who he actually was. He didn’t want to be Adrien Agreste to her. This was his opportunity to just be Adrien, and he wasn’t going to let it slip by.


	2. Adrien is a Dork

Adrien spent his Saturday morning run organizing a game plan while Plagg slept in the pocket of his hydration pack. He was never quite sure how the kwami managed it, but Plagg said the motion was soothing. For all of the little fairy’s quirks, Adrien didn’t question it.

Plagg had been about as useless as Adrien had expected. The kwamis had agreed centuries ago not to interfere with Chat and Ladybug’s relationship, and as annoying as it was, Adrien could see how it could be wise. Sometimes.

Besides, he was positive it was her, so he didn’t necessarily need Plagg’s confirmation. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice. When they had left the shop and Adrien had told him about his discovery, the kwami had said even less than Adrien had expected, as if he didn’t know how to respond. Which definitely tugged at Adrien’s confidence. He hadn’t considered how this could be anything less than good, and he didn’t particularly want to. Plagg’s negativity was an unwelcome intrusion on his excitement. He tried not to dwell on it. Instead, he planned.

            Obviously, he would need to spend more time in the bakery. He wondered how often he could show up before it became creepy, but then decided that since his schedule was so busy anyway, he probably wouldn’t even be able to go often enough for it to be weird.

            Actually… how often would he be able to get away? Yesterday was a rare day. He couldn’t usually just disappear for a couple of hours. Maybe if he took schoolwork with him, he could work it out. If he was studying, maybe his father would even be okay with—wait… No, no, then he’d have to take the gorilla. And he liked the gorilla. He really did. But the big guy didn’t fit into this plan at all. He wasn’t playing the model card, he was hiding it. Most plebeians don’t keep bodyguards on hand. He’d probably have to keep sneaking out as Chat, but it might be more awkward to maneuver around with a backpack… Whatever. He fought off akumas on a semi-weekly basis. He could handle a backpack.

            So then… maybe two or three times a week? Would it be too stalkerish to try and find out her work schedule? Maybe he could get some information during their next patrol.

            But the patrol wouldn’t be until Monday. It was bad enough only seeing her once or twice a week already, but now that he _knew_ where to find her, it was even worse.

            Was she thinking about him, too? _Probably not_ , he chided himself. It wasn’t like she knew who he was. The famous model _or_ the black-clad hero of Paris. And even if she did know he was Chat Noir, her partner and friend, Ladybug didn’t feel the same way he did. He knew she respected him. And even though he had struggled to believe it at times, he knew that she trusted him. She never said it, but he knew that she loved him. Just not the way he loved her.

            This was his chance to change that. Maybe.

            Unless… she actually hated the real Adrien. Maybe once she got to know him, she would decide he was a total loser. Nino told him a lot that he needed to work on maybe being not quite so awkward. Not that it was Adrien’s fault that he wasn’t socially adjusted; he had _begged_ his father to let him go to public school. What actual threat could there have been? But Gabriel was Gabriel, and Adrien was his most valuable employee.

            _No; even his employees get weekends off,_ thought Adrien ruefully. Except for Natalie. Poor Natalie. Not that he really felt bad for her.

            The thought came back, though. What would he do if Ladybug couldn’t stand him? Thought he was arrogant or annoying or just weird?

            He would just have to keep being Chat, if that was the case. Ladybug would never have to know that her partner was a famous model with zero self-esteem who couldn’t seem to shake the smell of cheese. He would know that it would never have worked out and they could continue being partners and friends.

            And maybe, eventually, his heart would heal enough to be okay with that.

            He forced the thought out of his mind for the rest of his run, focusing instead on how to woo his lady without her figuring him out.

 

* * *

Of course Alya _considered_ telling her best friend about the model encounter. Marinette’s face would be hilarious, and if Alya was any judge of atmosphere, Adrien Agreste would definitely be back. Not too many things shook Marinette, but Alya was sure Adrien could be one of them.

            Still, if he really did come back, maybe it would be better to wait and let Marinette figure it out for herself. There seemed to be something a little bit deep in her friend’s scatter-brained staring. Alya wouldn’t push it…Rather, she would only push it _subtly_. Because Marinette and Adrien were _definitely_ going to talk to each other next time. Alya would be sure of it.

            “What are you smiling about?” Marinette asked suspiciously.

            “Huh? Oh, I was just thinking about how cute that boy earlier was. Didn’t you think?”

            Marinette blushed faintly, much to Alya’s satisfaction.

            “I guess,” she replied. “It just bothers me that I can’t place him.”

            “Don’t stress it,” Alya soothed. “I’m sure it’ll come to you. Who knows, maybe he’ll be back and you’ll recognize him then.”

            “Maybe…” Marinette’s forehead still furrowed slightly with thought.

            “Girl, let it be. Have you tried this month’s special yet?” Alya asked, pushing her drink toward her companion as they walked side by side down the sidewalk.

            “You made me drink one yesterday,” Marinette reminded her. “And I thought you didn’t even like apple spice?”

            Alya looked disdainfully at the latte she was trying to get rid of. “I thought maybe it would be better the second time around. It’s not.”

            “So you’re trying to pawn it off on me?”

“Hey!” Alya defended herself. “Free coffee!”

            Marinette snorted. “I don’t even like coffee,” she reminded her friend.

            “I don’t know how you live.” Still, Alya thought, Marinette seemed sufficiently distracted. Mission accomplished.

* * *

It had become a Sunday afternoon tradition for Nino to come to the Agreste mansion and stay late into the evening. Adrien helped him with his calculus and English homework, Nino kept Adrien updated on anything interesting that had happened in class, and they played video games until Nathalie ushered Nino out into the dusk.

            The two had met a year and a half ago when Adrien ducked into a comic book store near Nino’s house. (He wasn’t necessarily hiding on this occasion. He just knew that his father wouldn’t approve of his hanging out in comic book stores.) When he and Nino got into the classic “Superman v. Batman” argument, Nino had been so impressed that “Mr. Model Behavior” had been able to hold his own—and so disappointed that he had never seen any of the Batman v. Superman movies—that he took it upon himself to teach Adrien the ways of the outside world: that being, movie night sleepovers.

            Because Adrien couldn’t go to school himself, and because he had always suspected Chloe to be a less-than-reliable narrator, he made Nino keep him up to date. He was still surprised when Nino described Chloe’s arch nemesis as “super chill,” and disappointed to hear that Chloe was even worse than he had let himself imagine. He really did blame her upbringing for her impossible behavior, although Nino wasn’t quite so sympathetic.

            This Sunday afternoon was no different than most, except that Nino was on a rare winning streak.

“Bro,” he asked after Adrien had lost his third round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III. “You good?”

            “Huh? Yeah. Just a little bit distracted.” Understatement.

            “Is your old man acting psycho again?”

            “No more than usual. You’re here, aren’t you?”

            “True.” The not-uncommon occasions where Adrien’s father ‘disciplined’ the boy by restricting his already limited social life seemed harsh and unnecessary to both of the teenagers. For the thousandth time, Adrien wondered whether his father had ever been exposed to the concept of positive reinforcement or if he just enjoyed making his son miserable. Nino strongly suspected the latter.

            “So what’s eating at you? It’s like you’re not even trying. I’m kind of offended that I’m not worth the challenge,” Nino teased.

            Adrien wondered how much he could safely tell his best friend. He wished, now more than ever, that he could tell him everything. There was such a difference between this life he had been forced into and the amazing freedom being Chat offered him, and he wanted to share it with someone—as Adrien. The divide between his personas was so strong that it made his everyday life seem even more like a cage, and telling Nino would feel like bending one of the steel bars ever-so-slightly out of place.

            He knew it wasn’t an option, but he thought about it a lot.

            If he could just tell him about the girl, though…

            “I’m going to sound like such a creep,” he mumbled to himself.

            Nino’s ears perked up immediately. “Don’t worry, bro. You’re too pretty to be creepy. Now tell me.”

            Adrien hesitated before ultimately giving in—partially because of the puppy eyes Nino was throwing at him, and partially because he didn’t particularly want to keep it in. “There’s a girl…” he started off.

            “You can’t date Chloe, man,” Nino interrupted. “I mean, I love you and all, and I respect your decisions, but I will be forced to disown you.”

            Adrien couldn’t hold back an involuntary grimace. Yes, Chloe was his friend, but the thought of actually dating her made him feel… what was the word Matt Healy had used? Demasculinating. Dating Chloe would be demasculinating and he received no pleasure from the concept.

            “It’s not Chloe.”

            Nino sighed in relief. “Wait, wait, wait—is it another model? Does she have a sister?”

            “She could be,” Adrien mumbled to himself. “And no sister. At least, not that I know of. You see… I don’t actually know her…” The last few words came out slowly, and he corrected himself. “I mean, I know her. I just know her from somewhere else. And, like, I hadn’t seen her before—not without a mask, anyway—but I saw her working in this coffee shop the other day and I _know_ it’s her. I know it is. And I want to know her more, but I’m scared that if she finds out who I am, she won’t want anything to do with me.”

There. He’d said it. The kink in all of his plans: himself.

Nino looked to be deep in thought for minute, as if he understood very little and was trying to figure out which question took priority.

“… A mask?” he finally asked.

Adrien struggled to find an excuse. “Yeah, it’s like, this… thing, where, um… we wear costumes and—cosplay!” he stuttered out energetically. “I met her at a convention! And we’ve kept up and I think I’m in love with her but I only know her as her character.” That sounded even creepier than the actual reality. “But I… I just want to really know her.” He dropped his shoulders in dejection.

When he made eye contact with his friend, Nino’s face was a three-way tug of war between judgement, confusion, and skepticism. In the end, though, he simply said, “You’re such a dork, man. But that’s okay. We’ll work on that. So why didn’t you just go talk to her?”

“I don’t want her to know who I am.”

“Why not?”

“Because if she sees Adrien Agreste, then I’m not me anymore. I’m Adrien Agreste.” The blond sighed heavily, deflated by conundrum.

“But dude…” Nino pursed his lips. “You are Adrien Agreste.”

“Well, yeah, but like… that’s not me. You know that.”

“No,” Nino argued. “I know you. And you’re smart, and you work out more than I even want to think about, and you have bad opinions on comic books, and you’re a _dork_ , but you’re also fashion model Adrien Agreste.”

“You don’t get it,” Adrien grumbled. Of course he was all of the above. But probably no one understood what it was like to be perceived by people you didn’t even know—millions of people you didn’t know—as something you weren’t. It wasn’t fair. And of course Nino didn’t understand, because he didn’t know the excitement of finally being able to recreate yourself as only who you are. Chat Noir, only Chat Noir, with an audience of Paris, but revealed to only one person.

But if anyone could understand him, maybe it would be Ladybug. Maybe she could only really be herself in costume, beautiful savior of the city, unknown to anyone but him.

He remembered the first time they met, how they had absolutely owned that rock monster. And when it came back, she was so scared…so upset with herself…but he had gotten her back on her feet. Because he understood. They understood each other in ways no one else could because no one else had been in that position.

And now, when he had this perfect opportunity to really, _really_ know her, Adrien Agreste, fashion model, was going to get in the way. He hated it.

And Nino couldn’t understand it, and it wasn’t his fault. Still, though, it was lonely.

“Bro,” Nino said, interrupting the boy’s thoughts. “Lighten up. If she doesn’t like all of you, she isn’t worth you. I know who you are, right? And I think you’re awesome. And she will too. But first things first…” Adrien’s head popped up at the mischievous tone in his best friend’s voice. “I have to meet the lady. Where does she work? Let’s go now.”

“Now?” Adrien asked. “I don’t even know if the place is open right now. It’s Sunday night.”

“Fine, then. Tomorrow, after school.”

Adrien thought for a moment. “I’m busy tomorrow afternoon, but I’m free after six.”

“Great. Meet you here?”

“No, I don’t want the gorilla following me... I’ll text you the address and I’ll meet you there.”

“Perfect,” said Nino. “Now that we have that all sorted out, you can get back to putting me in my place.” Nino shoved the controller back at Adrien, and Adrien laughed.

As anxious as he was about seeing her again, he couldn’t pretend that his heart didn’t feel lighter at the thought of it.

* * *

Monday rolled in slowly and overcast. Adrien slipped an umbrella into his backpack with his Italian homework and waited at one of the bay windows, watching to see when Nino would walk by and drumming his fingers on the sill.

            “Calm down,” Plagg admonished. “It’s just a girl.”

            “Plagg,” Adrien groaned. “It’s not just a girl. It’s _Ladybug_.”

            “I don’t understand you humans. Why would you get so worked up about romance when there’s _cheese_?”

            “Do you have a problem with this?” Adrien asked, partially out of exasperation, partially out of general curiosity. Irritating though the kwami may be, Adrien knew that it was wiser than he was, especially concerning the miraculous and miraculous users.

            “Not particularly.” So helpful. “But she did say that she didn’t want you to know.”

            “It’s not like I went out looking for her,” Adrien argued. “I just found her. Like fate or something.”

            “Fate is a lie,” Plagg replied. “You’re confusing it with destiny. And just because you found her, doesn’t mean you should pursue her.”

            “I can’t _not_ pursue her. I’m in love with her.”

            “I don’t care who you love, as long as you don’t forget to feed me camembert.”

            Adrien groaned. “I have your camembert right here,” he said, pulling out a triangle for tiny companion. “The rest is for tonight.”

            The kwami swung around in the air, overjoyed with its snack, before swallowing it whole. Adrien couldn’t help but wonder if that hurt its tiny throat.

            He caught a glimpse of Nino walking away from the school and gave him a chance to get ahead.

            “Plagg, claws out!” And he was off.

            He ran along the rooftops, dropping into an alley just shortly before he reached Nino and detransforming. He jogged to catch up to his friend.

            “How was school?” he asked, pulling the earbuds out of Nino’s ears.

            Nino whirled around, startled. “You can’t do that to me, dude! What, do you loan yourself out as a ninja on the weekends?”

            “It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention to your surroundings,” Adrien replied, laughing.

            “What, I’m supposed to watch the street behind myself, too?”

            Adrien leaned in, whispering into his friend’s ear. “You never know who could be lurking,” he said softly. Nino jerked his head back, spurring even more laughter from Adrien.

            “You’re so weird, man,” Nino complained, folding up his earbuds and shoving them in his pocket. “Don’t do that to the girl. I was wrong. You are not too pretty to be creepy.”

            “You think it’s going to rain?” Adrien asked absently.

            “I hope not. I live in the opposite direction of this place. Are we close yet?”

            “Yeah, it’s just like… another three-quarters of a mile.”

            “That’s not close,” Nino pouted.

            “It’s fairly close,” argued the blond. “You just need to walk faster.”

            “Not all of us run half-marathons every month.”

            “They’re for charity!”

            After no small amount of grumbling from Nino, the two boys eventually arrived at the coffee shop, down a wide alley that stretched off of the main street. The door jingled as they walked in, and Adrien closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the scent of espresso and cinnamon. When he looked at his friend, however, Nino was rooted in place, eyes wide.

            “Is everything alright?” Adrien whispered, but Nino’s eyes remained focused behind the counter. “Nino?”

            “Bro. Tell me that’s not her.”

            “Huh?” Adrien looked between the kitchen, where his lady was occupied rolling out some kind of dough, and his best friend, who appeared frozen with shock. “Why? Do you know her?”

            “Do I know her,” Nino scoffed. “Step back outside with me.”

            Adrien, very confused, nodded to the barista and followed his anxious friend outside. “Is there a problem?” he asked after the door had closed.

            “That’s Alya,” Nino hissed. “She hates me.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Adrien replied slowly. “You’ve mentioned her before. I thought you thought she was hot?”

            “Yes,” Nino replied through his teeth. “She’s hot, but she _hates me_.”

            “Why would anyone hate you?”

            “She thinks I’m part of the patriarchy? I don’t even know, man. I made some joke about women and sandwiches and she took it like super personally or something. I know it was immature, but it was like a year ago and she still won’t look at me straight.”

            Adrien was thoroughly confused. “That doesn’t sound like her at all,” he replied. “She’s always seemed really level-headed.”

            “Level as a train wreck,” Nino muttered. “You sure about this?”

            Adrien hesitated. “I was…”

            Nino sighed. “Then I’ll try to put in a good word for you,” he volunteered selflessly. “Just know that I love you.” He straightened his back, set his eyes forward, and marched into the shop like a young soldier toward the battlefield.

            Adrien watched uncomfortably before following his friend into the unassuming shop. He set his bag down at a table, trying not to draw any attention from the other customers. When the barista looked at him, she almost fell apart laughing. She stepped out from behind the counter and led Nino outside. Adrien looked on, baffled, before looking back into the kitchen…

            Just in time to make eye contact with… Alya. Her cheeks instantly flushed pink as she whipped around, back to her baking. Adrien held back a laugh, sitting down at the table and pulling out his homework while he waited for Nino to return.

            He was very confused. Nino usually complained about Alya, but Adrien could tell that he liked her. And from what he had been told, Alya didn’t look very much like the Alya in the kitchen at all.

            What would he do if Nino was actually in love with Ladybug? The mere improbability of the situation struck him. Of all people, why her? Why couldn’t Nino like anyone else?

            If it came down to it, did Adrien have dibs? He hated it, but he couldn’t just give her up. He loved her.

            Adrien’s phone buzzed. Nino had texted him.

            **Nino:** _is it the barista or the baker?_

**Adrien:** _The baker…_

            Nino and the barista came back in. The barista looked hugely amused, and Nino looked hugely relieved.

            He sat down next to Adrien.

            “I am so sorry about that. The barista is Alya. The baker is her best friend, Marinette.”

            Adrien’s eyes widened. “ _The_ Marinette?” he asked.

            “Um… yes?”

            It occurred to Adrien that Marinette was a beautiful name. It suited her. He instantly approved of Nino’s description of Chloe’s arch enemy. Nino said she was like a class hero. Adrien believed it.

            His eyes wandered back into the kitchen, watching her set out lumps of dough onto a baking sheet.

            Nino’s voice brought his attention back to their table. “Alya says she’s going to help us,” he was saying. “And she won’t tell Marinette who you are.”

            Adrien sighed with relief. “I thought she hated you?” he asked.

            “I think she does. But she doesn’t hate you, and that’s what matters.”

            He watched as the actual Alya called Marinette to the counter. _Such a perfect name_ , he thought again. Marinette, the Miraculous Ladybug. He couldn’t help smiling, even though he could hear Nino laughing at him. She even walked like the Ladybug. Her eyes widened as she talked to her friend, and her cheeks went pink again. Alya eventually shoved two drinks into Marinette’s hands and sent her on her way.

            She walked over slowly, less confident than Adrien was used to seeing her.

            “Welcome to the shop,” she stuttered out. Watching her whole face move while she spoke, seeing her stumbling over her own words, Adrien was in awe. Their eyes met, and for a moment, her mouth stopped moving. And then she caught herself.

            “This month’s promotional item!” she exclaimed, handing them both a cup. “It’s an apple spice latte. They’re, um… They’re on the house.”

            Before she could walk away, Adrien placed a gentle hand on her elbow. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, when she turned back around. He held eye contact.

            “You know,” he purred softly, slowly, “I’ve been thinking about you a _latte_.”

            Her face froze in confusion before turning red. She nodded at him and hurried back to the counter. He grinned as he watched her go.

            “Really, man?” Nino asked. “Already with the puns?”

            “What can I say?” Adrien responded. “I’m too good.”

            “No, man, you really aren’t. What are you doing?”

            “Huh?” Adrien looked up from his book. “I brought homework.”

            “You’re such a nerd,” Nino complained, pulling his laptop and headphones out of his bag and taking a sip of the latte.

            “Is the coffee good?” Adrien asked.

            “It tastes like apple pie and horse piss.”

            Adrien took a sip. “Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, it does.”

            For about an hour, Nino took advantage of the free Wi-Fi while Adrien got ahead on Italian. By the time the shop started to close at eight, Adrien had finished his language homework for the rest of the week and it had started raining.

            A pair of headlights flashed in the window. “My folks are here,” Nino said. “I asked them to come pick me up. You want a ride?”

            “I’m good,” Adrien answered. “I only have a few more exercises left in this chapter, so I’ll stay behind and finish them up. Thanks for coming with me.” He flashed his perfect smile at his best friend, who rolled his eyes as he put his things back in his bag and went out to meet his parents.

            Marinette and Alya closed up shop while he finished and the last of the customers filtered outside. Finally, he sent Natalie a text explaining nothing but asking her to send a ride to pick him up. He gave her the address of a storefront on the corner of the block, a few doors down from the coffee shop. When she texted back saying his bodyguard was on his way, Adrien nodded to the girls and reluctantly left the store. He had been hoping to get in a few more words with Marinette, but he knew it wasn’t acceptable to stay any later. He opened his umbrella and stepped into the rain.

            From his street corner, he could see the girls leaving the shop a few minutes later and watched Alya lock the door behind them. Marinette was on her phone. He couldn’t see very well through the rain, but she looked frustrated.

            Coming from the opposite direction, he saw headlights and assumed it was the gorilla. He made his way back to the shop, stopping in front of Alya and Marinette.

            “My ride is here,” he said with a small practiced but sincere smile, “so you should take this. Stay safe.” Marinette’s fingers wrapped around his as she took the umbrella from his hand. She swallowed, and he could feel his throat constricting as his smile widened just a bit. They held eye contact as he backed down the street before turning to get into the car at the corner.

            When he looked out the window, he could see her watching him through the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I was so excited to use the umbrella scene I could hardly stand it. This was my first full fanfiction (even though I'm only posting it here just now), so please forgive any amateur mistakes, and I hope you enjoy :) I'll try to post a few more chapters tomorrow.  
> Side note: I really like the idea of Alya wanting to be a barista but sucking at making coffee. The girl is talented, but maybe the kitchen isn't quite her place lol


	3. Chapter 3

When the corner of the building blocked Marinette from his view, Adrien laid down in the back seat of the BMW and closed his eyes.

            Really, he did appreciate the Gorilla. It was nice to have someone who didn’t ask questions, didn’t expect perfect answers. He never sensed judgement coming off of the large man. Adrien knew that if his bodyguard really felt the need to follow him everywhere, he could, and he would—but he didn’t. Sometimes the boy felt like the bodyguard was his only ally in the household.

            The car pulled in through the gates and stopped by the steps to the wide porch.

            “Thank you,” Adrien said sincerely to his chauffeur. The Gorilla nodded to him, expressionless, and Adrien watched the car pull around to the back of the mansion before he entered through the huge front doors.

            Greeted by a stern-looking Nathalie, he could sense the anxiety she never expressed. He did not meet her eyes, instead focusing his own on the staircase behind her, chin level, neither bowing in submission nor raising his nose at her. They were equals.

            “Your father requests to know where you were,” she pronounced quietly, clearly, enunciating each syllable.

            “I was studying,” he mumbled to the staircase. “I finished my Italian homework for the rest of the week.”

            “Where were you studying? The address you sent me belongs to a small haberdashery.”

            “I was in a safe and quiet place,” Adrien answered firmly.

            The assistant sighed. “You don’t have to answer me,” she said, “but your father will want to know.”

            He swallowed but kept his voice steady. “I am aware.”

            “Very well. Your father has you scheduled for a shoot at six tomorrow morning. You should get some rest.”

            Adrien finally met her eyes, nodded, and kept his shoulders high and back as he walked towards the stairs, up to the landing, until he was finally out of her eyesight. Leaning against the wall, he took a deep, shaky breath. Confrontation was not something that he enjoyed, as Adrien or as Chat.

            He wasn’t afraid of Nathalie. She was his equal, and he had sympathy for her because of it. She wasn’t the only employee bearing his father’s inhuman expectations, but she was the only one who had to face them as personally as he did. Part of him wanted to say that at least she could just leave, but he knew that she couldn’t. He could see it in the way she took Gabriel’s abuse. Unlike the rest of the staff, she had been with the family since before Adrien’s mother had disappeared. Maybe she was in love with the man, or maybe she only loved him in the way that one loves a friend after they change.

            His father wasn’t always like this. When you know that someone was once someone else, and you love them, you stay by them, no matter what they do to you. Because you know that, deep down, the person you love is still there. You see it even in the way that they hurt you, which is why it hurts so much. But you still love them.

            Adrien understood it very well. He didn’t remember much of his father from before, but he had other experience.

            But just because he didn’t hate Nathalie, didn’t mean that he liked her. She was an emissary of his father, an extension of Gabriel’s power over his son, used to exercise authority without inconveniencing himself. Adrien hated that his father spoke to him through his assistant, and he didn’t appreciate the way his assistant willingly and emotionlessly acted as his ambassador.

            He made his way to his cavernous bedroom, dropped his backpack by the couch, and collapsed onto his bed with a frustrated groan.

            Plagg flew from his bag to hover over him.

            “I know, I know,” Adrien moaned, dragging himself back up to get the kwami’s snack. “Camembert. Got it.”

            After flying around happily with the cheese and shoving it whole down his throat, Plagg came back to float over Adrien’s bed.

            “So are you happy?” he asked.

            Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “About what?” he asked.

            “You finally know who Ladybug is.”

            Adrien couldn’t help smiling through his frustration. “Yeah,” he answered. “I really am. She’s so beautiful, Plagg. She’s so perfect. I can’t wait to see her again.”

            “Good,” the kwami says. “As long as this doesn’t get in the way of me and my sweet, sweet, Camembert, I am… happy for you.”

            “I thought you thought I shouldn’t go?” Adrien asked, confused.

            “Eh, I trust you. Figured someone should bring it up. Who’s who, masks or no masks, it’s never been a real problem before. You’ll be fine.”

            Adrien took confidence from the rare moment of encouragement. It made the irritating little prickly sensation at the back of his mind calm down for a little bit. Whenever he noticed it, it bothered him, so he generally tried not to notice it. He could always feel when it shut up, though. Like when he saw her. When he was with her, his guilt was blissfully silent. It was only afterwards that it bothered to him. He felt like he was lying to her, even though he hadn’t even been given an opportunity to tell her.

            He remembered her eyes when she took the umbrella from him, the look of soft surprise, the tiny smile when he walked away. She looked so… touched. Because of him. He had made that happen.

            She wouldn’t have looked like that if Chat had given her the umbrella. She probably wouldn’t have even taken it, wouldn’t have let her friend get wet. And that was sweet, in its own way. But it denied the fact that he would genuinely prefer to give her the umbrella. He wanted the thing that kept her dry to be his.

            And now his umbrella would be sitting in her house, helping her.

            That was a very, very good feeling.

            The rain would also keep him from seeing her tonight. If it could be helped, they never patrolled on rainy nights. He was caught between relief and disappointment. On the one hand, of course he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Seeing Marinette, he wanted to see Marinette in Ladybug like he saw Ladybug in Marinette. To finally really know his lady.

            On the other hand, what if he gave himself away? What if he said something stupid? Or what if just seeing him so soon after seeing Adrien made it click for her? He didn’t want to risk that.

            He also knew that seeing Ladybug would awaken that stupid guilty voice in the back of his head, trying to ruin his one chance. He didn’t want to think about it, and he didn’t want to think about this coming between them instead of pulling them closer. Besides, he had to wake up early tomorrow. He should sleep.

            He knew that today would be seen as a rebellion, and he would be surprised if there wasn’t more punishment than one additional early-morning photo shoot. Adrien wasn’t a rebel, but he wasn’t the submissive ‘son’ he knew his father wanted him to be. Not surprisingly, he felt no guilt regarding his disobedience. The fact that a seventeen-year-old boy had to sneak out to study with his friend in a coffee shop was ridiculous, and he resented it.

            Rebellious? No.

            Passive aggressive? Maybe.

            So he would go to the photo shoot. And he would do whatever else his father expected him to do, and he would do it well. He would give no one any reason to criticize him.

            He would also do whatever he could to get closer Marinette.

* * *

 

Friday afternoon, Adrien was grateful for his first reprieve from work and school since returning home Monday night. He rode the elevator up to Chloe’s floor and knocked on her door before letting himself in.

            “Adrikins!” she exclaimed, almost tackling him to the ground. “It’s been so long!”

            “Father’s been keeping me busy,” he explained.

            “He’s been keeping you too busy,” she pouted. “I’ll have Daddy speak to him.”

            Adrien grimaced and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”

            “But I missed you! It’s not fair!”

            _It’s not_ , Adrien thought, thinking of his situation even though he knew that Chloe meant it was unfair that she hadn’t been able to see him.

            Still, it would be lying to say that she was the only one who enjoyed her time with him. He resented that it still felt like a celebrity playdate, and he couldn’t say that she wasn’t at least a little bit terrible and annoying, but she was his oldest friend, and half-listening to her prattle on about whatever great thing her daddy was doing or new styles she wanted Jean-Claude to try out on her was stress-relieving in its own way. He didn’t enjoy listening to her complain about her classmates, but he was usually able to tune that much out.

            He heard a question in her voice, and he tuned back in.

            “I was thinking we could go to the mall,” she was saying. “Lucas Vreille just released a new collection—like you didn’t know—and it would be so much fun to check it out together!”

            On the one hand, the new collection did look excellent, especially this one leather jacket that would be perfect now that the temperature was dropping. He didn’t pretend not to know that leather was a killer look on him. It was what made him such a dashing Chat Noir, after all.

            On the other hand, he didn’t like going out with Chloe. It always felt like show-and-tell, and she was always so critical of everyone else. He couldn’t deny that she was everything wrong with celebrities, and while he was happy to be her friend, he wasn’t proud to be associated with her. He was about to say no, but…

            Marinette would like it, right? Girls liked leather.

            He at least needed to try it on.

            And so he found himself in the back of the Bourgeois limousine.

            He hated limousines. He had learned to deal with the attention fame inevitably brought—he’d had to—but he didn’t like it. Chloe, on the other hand, soaked it in like sunlight, strutting out of the limo and into the three-story mall like a peacock in heat. He wanted to hang behind, but he knew she would only yell at him to catch up, and that would draw even more attention. So he kept his eyes down and his shoulders hunched forward while he walked by her side.

            Eyes still followed them.

            Adrien was grateful when they finally reached the boutique featuring the new collection. Getting to a place was painful, but being there was usually better. Sure, he would be featured on every customer’s snapchat, but at least it was a limited crowd.

            He was rifling through the men’s selection when he heard his friend yelling for him at a much higher decibel than he considered necessary.

            “Adrihoney!” Chloe called. “What do you think of this coat?”

            He made his way back to her. It was a nice pea coat, classic but innovative, mostly black but with a yellow collar. Very Chloe.

            “It’s very you,” he responded. “You should try it on.”

            “That’s what I was thinking,” she said. “Especially if Jean-Claude agrees with me about the bangs. It would look so mod, right?”

            Adrien chuckled. “Very mod,” he agreed. “I feel like mod’s going to make a comeback. Maybe not quite yet, but it’s definitely on its way.”

            “Of course it is,” Chloe responded. “That’s why I want the bangs. It’s not a real trend if I’m not heading it.”

            “Of course. I’m going to get back to my side. There’s a certain jacket I’m looking for…”

            “You want me to come help?” she offered.

            “Nah, you can stay here. I’ll catch up once I find it.”

            She pouted. “Whatever.”

            Upon returning to his rack, something peculiar and beautiful caught his eye, and it was not made of leather.

            “And what brings you here?” he asked the dark-haired girl inspecting a rack near his.

            She whirled on him, face instantly turning pink. “Hi!” she exclaimed. He held back a small laugh. He had never thought he would have the opportunity to see Ladybug flustered, but there she was. He couldn’t get over how adorable it was.

            He glanced at the label she had been eyeing. “You a Murad fan?” he asked.

            She blinked, slowly registering that he had asked her a question. “Y-y-yes!” she stammered. “B-but… I’m not really shopping. I’m just looking for inspiration. I mean, I could just look online, I guess… I guess this is kind of loitering… but I like to be able to—to feel the fabrics. It helps me to see the actual garment, instead of just the image, you know?”

            “Inspiration?” he repeated. “So you design?”

            Her eyes widened. “Um…yeah! Yeah, but not, like, like, like big things, I guess…I mean, it’s more of a hobby. Not that I’m not any good, but I’m not _that_ good, but there was this one competition—with bowlers—I mean, bowlers, right? I guess that doesn’t mean very much, but, um…Yeah,” she concluded. “I design some.”

            “The Agreste bowler hat competition a couple years ago?” he asked, loving the way her eyes lit up.

            “Yeah! That one!”

            He remembered it. It was low on his list of favorite photo shoots, since he couldn’t stop sneezing the whole time, but the hat had been excellently designed. Very original, technically skilled handiwork, and very Parisian. It had been an impressive piece. “That was a good hat,” he said.

            She bit her lip. “Thank you,” she mumbled, looking at her feet.

            “Adrien!” There was a notable shift in Chloe’s voice from earlier, which had gone from loud to abrasive. He flinched. “What are you doing talking to _her_?”

            Due to Adrien’s sheltered upbringing, he had never witnessed a real catfight. And while he knew that Chloe was terrible to anyone of lesser standing than she, especially those who refused her of her need for worship, he had been mercifully spared from watching her tear into someone she actually despised. He didn’t particularly want to change that.

            He saw the brightness fade from Marinette’s eyes as her lips pulled into a grimace.

            “Is there a problem, Chloe?” she asked, a forced patience painted over her clear irritation.

            “Yes, and it’s you.”

            “Chloe, is this necessary?” he asked, firm but with pleading in his eyes.

            “It’s okay, Adrien,” Chloe said, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder. “I know you don’t know. But this pale nobody thinks that it’s her place to degrade me. She thinks she’s a hero, but really everyone hates her.”

            He grit his teeth, trying not to give in to the flare of defensive anger that rose in his chest. Chloe or not, that was no way to talk about another person, _especially_ Marinette, who actually was a hero and whom he trusted was nothing true to the description she had just been given.

            “You shouldn’t say those things about people, Chloe,” he warned her, voice slow.

            “Well, it’s true. I mean, what is she even doing here? We all know she can’t actually afford anything.”

            Adrien purposefully restrained himself from looking at Marinette. He hated to be associated with this.

            He should have stayed home.

            “Chloe.” He looked at her meaningfully. “You’re embarrassing me.”

            The wash of shock that overtook her face was striking, quickly replaced by her impressive temper.

            “Excuse me?” she exclaimed. Adrien kept himself from flinching at the volume. “How dare you talk to me like that? You’re supposed to be my friend!” She sounded more indignant than hurt, but the hurt was there, mixed in with the anger flashing in her fiery blue eyes. “I can’t believe even you would choose her over me! You don’t even know her!” And then she stormed out of the store.

            All eyes were on him.

            And he had no idea how to respond.

            He looked apologetically at Marinette. “I should go…”

            “Probably,” she agreed, her face thoughtful.

            He nodded quickly. “Another time, then.” And then he left to find his friend.

            He didn’t know whether or not he should feel guilty, but he did. Even though Chloe was obviously being ridiculous, and even though she was rude, callous, and arrogant, she was very sensitive, and her oversized ego hurt her more often than anything else did. He had learned to approach her carefully, but he had been so offended for Marinette’s sake—and, if he was honest, so embarrassed to be associated with his own friend—that he had disregarded her emotions in an effort to look better in front of his lady.

            In hindsight, something about what he had said sounded very much like his father. The thought made him cringe.

            He asked the spectators if they had seen where she was going, but before he could follow their directions, he heard a crash and whirled around to see exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

* * *

 

“Plagg, claws out!” he yelled from the inside of a cramped bathroom stall. Ladybug was, predictably, already on the scene.

            “I think I know what happened here,” she said.

            _Of course you do,_ he thought. “Really? Fill me in.”

            “I think it might have been partially my fault…” she led in sheepishly. “Although it’s hard to feel guilty,” she added under her breath.

            Was this what she always meant when she thought things were her fault? Amazing. It was obviously _his_ fault. “I really don’t think you can blame yourself for this one, my lady,” he assured her, trying to be vague. “I saw part of it. I’d blame anyone _but_ you in this case.”

            She smiled softly at him. “Let’s not pass blame. I think we have bigger—” Her eyes flew open and she tackled Chat to the ground. A yellow streak shot through where he had been standing, and the bystander behind him vanished.

            “ _Only look at me_!” a grating voice shouted. And they did. As did everybody else.

            Chloe stood tall in a long yellow fur overcoat, replete with black trim and “complimented” with insanely high black platform boots. A pair of large round mirrored sunglasses hid her eyes.

            “Very mod,” Adrien muttered.

            The flower-power look was thrown off by her scowl. “How dare you choose _her_ over _me_?” she screamed. An unfortunate spectator caught his reflection in her glasses and disappeared in a burst of yellow.

            “Not groovy,” Chat commented drily. Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him. “Just saying!”

He got to work distracting the Chloe while Ladybug got to work planning. They were able to piece together that the glasses were the operative agent. Kind of like Medusa, but in reverse. It was the mirror that turned you to stone… or, rather, turned you into air.

            Mirrors.

            “Ladybug!” he called to across the room. She always kept a compact mirror on her and tended to use it obsessively. “There should be a mirror somewhere. That’s probably the akuma.”

            “Got it!” she called back.

            They did get the mirror, and Ladybug did de-evilize it.

            Chat disappeared almost immediately after, leaving Ladybug to deal with the flustered post-akumatization Chloe. He ran right back after detransforming.

            “There you are!” he exclaimed when he found them. “Chloe! I was so worried!”

            She looked disoriented. “Really?” she asked. He didn’t even attempt to read her emotions. He was too tired for that.

            “Of course!” he replied. “You’re my friend! I should get you home. I think you should rest some.”

            “Yeah…” she mumbled. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the exit.

            “Thank you for saving us, Ladybug!” he called back at the super heroine.

            Her head was cocked to the side, her bright, open face thoughtful. “Glad to help,” she called back softly. They shared in a smile, and Adrien thought he could feel his heart melting.

            The limo driver was there in seconds, and Adrien helped Chloe in before following her. She leaned over onto his shoulder. She looked exhausted.

            “I’m sorry I got mad at you,” he told her. “I was very harsh. I’m sorry.”

            “Yeah,” she mumbled into his shirt. “I don’t get it. She’s awful to me. Why would you stick up for her?”

            “I think…” He spoke slowly, as careful as possible. Not only was Chloe impossibly selective in her information processing, but she was as defensive as a steel fortress and as stubborn as a mountain as well. He wanted his words to help. “I think that she doesn’t mean to be awful to you,” he finally said. “And I think… that maybe you should try being nice to her first, even if you think she’s awful.” He couldn’t make himself say anything bad about Ladybug. There wasn’t anything bad _to_ say about her. But Chloe clearly hated Marinette, and if he could do anything to ease things between them, he would try his best to do it. “Be the bigger person, you know? Show everyone how patient and kind you are. I think… I think she’ll respond well to that.”

            “But I hate being patient and kind,” she grumbled. “They already know how great I am.”

            “I know they do,” he said softly. “But maybe… Just try it, okay? Do it for me.”

            “I’ll try,” she mumbled. Her eyes were closed.

            When they arrived at the hotel, he roused her enough to get her inside and up to her room. She went to sleep almost instantly in her huge, luxurious bed. She looked so relaxed when she slept. Sleeping Chloe was totally likeable, down to her not-so-subtle snoring. There was a really great person deep down inside of her. He knew that person. And he hoped that, eventually, everyone else would know that person, too. Chloe would be so much happier then.

            He sighed and took the elevator downstairs. He opted to walk back to the mansion instead of calling for a ride. Tired as he was from the social stress, his tiff with Chloe, and the fight, the brisk autumn air felt like therapy breezing against his warm cheeks. Being akumatized must take more out of a person than being Chat Noir did. Or maybe he was just used to it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of thoughts on the dynamic between Adrien and Nathalie. Here are some of them.  
> I also have a lot of questions concerning the relationship between Adrien and Chloe, and how Chloe could possibly be... Chloe. Who behaves like that? Why? Which makes it hard to write scenes between them, but I also think it helps to understand the character of both of them. Maybe? Anyway, this was a challenging chapter to write, but I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Home is Where Marinette Beats Everyone at UMS III

            Saturday afternoon, Marinette eyed her reflection uneasily in the cheval mirror in her room. The pastel pink flowy tank top was perfect—soft and feminine in a way that would look beautiful on most girls.

            Marinette was not most girls.

            She certainly wasn’t stacked, but she definitely had more muscle than girls generally wanted to have, and the shirt only seemed to accentuate that her body wasn’t quite so girly as the top itself. She started to pull it back off.

            “Don’t you dare,” Alya warned her. “If you’re worried about your arms, I’ll fight you. Your arms are sexy and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll fight them, too.”

            Marinette made a face. “Define sexy,” she argued. “I look like a dude.”

            “The idea that girls can’t be physically strong and attractive at the same time is outdated, irrelevant, and sexist. That shirt looks beautiful on you and anyone who is bothered by it doesn’t deserve to even look at you.”

            Marinette laughed. She wasn’t sure if she would go that far, but she did like the color of the shirt against her complexion, and everywhere else the fit was very flattering. She nodded at her reflection in solidarity. Besides, who was anyone to complain about how strong she was? It came with the hero territory. It was better for everyone that she looked this way.

            And it wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone.

            Definitely not.

            “Right,” she said. “So. We ready?”

            “I’m ready when you are,” Alya answered. “ _I’m_ only studying.”

            Marinette’s cheeks turned slightly darker than her shirt. “I am too!” she argued.

            Alya smirked. “Of course you are,” she said. “Now shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies. Let’s go meet the boys.”

* * *

 

Sitting in the park with Nino, waiting for the girls to arrive, Adrien was breathlessly excited and heart-racingly nervous. Not only was he meeting his lady— _she_ was coming to meet _him_ … well, she and Alya were coming to meet him and Nino. And they were studying. But still—this was also entirely new to him. He tutored Nino every week, but this was more like…mutual studying. With friends. More than one of them. It was weird, but in the best way. He was pretty sure he would never be able to make up the favor to Nino.

            His friend interrupted his thoughts. “Bro. Stop staring at the gate. It won’t make them get here any faster.”

            “Yeah, I know. I’m just…I’m excited. This is new for me.”

            “Right. Cause you’re definitely excited about studying.”

            “I am!” Adrien exclaimed. “I love studying!” It wasn’t a lie.

            “You’re such a nerd, dude. And… don’t look now, but…”

            Adrien looked, of course. And he couldn’t look away. As Marinette and Alya came closer, arms full of baked goods, he could just make out the pink in Marinette’s cheeks. Thanks to his upbringing, he couldn’t help but note how perfectly the shade of her tank top highlighted every soft and bright color in her face, how the contrast of her black hair brought each feature to life…

            They made eye contact and both looked away shyly. He could sense Nino trying not to laugh beside him, and elbowed him in the side.

            “Don’t laugh at me,” he grunted.

            “You just make it so hard. You’re so awkward it’s almost cute.”

            Adrien moaned. “Don’t make me sound like a little kid,” he complained.

            “A little kid in love…” Nino mumbled.

            “Shut up!” Adrien hissed. “I am as old as you are!”

            “Alya,” Nino greeted the guests. “Marinette. How are you ladies on this beautiful day?”

            The day was beautiful. It was unseasonably warm, although there were some clouds in the distance. Adrien had been checking the weather all day, and the forecast said it shouldn’t rain, but he had still checked it eight times before meeting Nino and three times after. He resisted the urge to check again now.

            “We are excellent,” Alya declared, “and very ready to tackle the homework for this weekend. What about you guys?”

            “Totally ready,” Nino answered. “Just one problem.” Adrien’s eyes widened as he whipped around to stare questioningly at his friend. Every time Nino opened his mouth, Adrien was sure it was for the purpose of ruining him. “I don’t think we’ve all been properly introduced. So, without any further ado… Alya, Marinette, this is my pal Adrien. He’s a bit sheltered, but he’s pretty alright in my opinion. Adrien, meet Alya, and Marinette.”

            Adrien shook each of the girls’ hands formally. “Nice to meet you,” he said with a soft smile, trying to muster up his well-practiced confidence. It was hard, though, when Marinette looked so painfully _cute_.

            She returned his smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Adrien.” She held eye contact this time, and so did he. And then he laughed, and she did too. It was such a pleasant sound. He’d heard it plenty before, but he would never get tired of it.

            “So,” Nino started, shaking the two out of their moment, “since my tutor is here, I’m going to go ahead and tackle English. And you ladies?”

            “You speak English?” Marinette asked.

            “ _Yeah_ ,” Adrien answered in English. “ _I’ve studied it for a few years._ ” Six years, to be exact. It was his second language. Followed by Chinese. Followed by Italian.

            “That’s so cool!” she exclaimed. “Your accent is perfect!”

            “Not quite perfect,” he argued modestly. “I’ve met a few of native speakers who had a hard time understanding me.”

            “Really? Where do you meet them?”

            He blinked. “My dad’s company works internationally, and he’s dragged me to a few business dinners.” Not a lie.

            “That’s so cool! I’ve only met exchange students, and almost none of them could understand me.” Marinette made a face.

            “You probably just need to practice more,” Adrien assured her. “If you want, you can practice with Nino and me now. Alya, are you studying English, too?”

            “I can speak enough to find a bus station and get home, but I opted to study German,” she answered.

            “That’s cool! I barely speak any German.”

            “So you speak a little bit?” she asked.

            “Just enough to find the bus station and get home.” He laughed.

            “That’s not bad. So, French, English, and a bit of German? Anything else?”

            “Just some stuff here and there.” He knew enough of what not to do from watching Chloe, and he had learned the bragging was a ‘what _not_ to do.’

            “’Just some stuff,’” Nino mimicked. “The kid’s polylingual. He’s fluent and Chinese and I’m pretty sure he’s at least conversational in Italian.”

            “I am not conversational,” Adrien argued. He refrained from mentioning that he could find bus stations and get home in Japanese and Spanish, as well. Not that bus stations would be very helpful for getting home from Japan, but he had been there for a show, and he liked to try and learn a little bit of the language whenever he was visiting a place. Better than following his father around.

            “Whatever, man. The dude’s a genius,” Nino summarized for the girls. Adrien shot him a dirty look.

            “But,” Adrien concluded, “let’s not practice too much English if it’s just the three of us. I don’t anyone to feel left out. I brought some of my own homework, too, so don’t feel like you need to accommodate me.”

            “No one’s accommodating anyone,” Alya stated. “We’re studying together.”

            And they did. After indulging in several croissants and cookies, they settled into companionable silence as they all dug into their homework. Adrien was surprised at how comfortable he felt. Really, he knew Marinette quite well, and if she trusted Alya, then Alya couldn’t be so bad. It was nice, having a group. He hoped he would be able to enjoy more times like this.

            He kept getting distracted, though. Marinette was just so… She was so much Ladybug even when she wasn’t Ladybug. She was even more than Ladybug. She was a full person. A beautiful person. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from her bare arms, the muscles that proved how much she did for this city, that showed how incredible she was. She was so soft but so strong at the same time, just like she was when he had met her years ago, except that now she seemed so much more confident. He was glad. It was good to see how much she had grown. Did that have anything to do with him?

He hoped the answer was yes.

Dragging his eyes back to the page in front of him, he really did try to focus on his work. It was a noble effort. But his eyes kept going back to her. And he knew that it wasn’t just his model’s eye appreciating her objective beauty, and it wasn’t just respect for his partner. She was stunning. She bit her lip when she was focusing on a difficult question, and her eyes squinted just a little bit when she laughed, and she was so beautiful he couldn’t not admire her, and he loved her so much he thought his heart would explode. A lovesick sigh accidentally escaped from his lungs, and when she looked up at him he realized that he was grinning.

He jerked his face back down, kicking himself mentally. That was stupid. He definitely looked weird just then. A freaking fashion model and he couldn’t control himself around a girl. When he heard her giggling, he couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad thing, and so he ignored it and pretended to study.

Some time later, Nino called the group to attention. “Guys,” he said slowly, “we might need to move out…”

“Why’s that?” Adrien asked. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to go or not. He really wasn’t getting any work done, but even anxiously staring at his textbook was better than anxiously not being around her.

“Because water beats paper.” Nino pointed towards the sky, where storm clouds were busily gathering.

“He’s right,” Alya commented. “Plus, my mom wants me home for dinner tonight, and I have a bit farther to walk than you guys.” She glanced at her cell phone and made a face. “Yeah… I’d better get going. Adrien, Nino, it’s been a pleasure.” She nodded to both of the boys. “Mari, I’ll see you Monday.”

“Wait,” Nino interrupted. “I’ll walk you home.”

Alya looked at him like he had suggested _she_ go home with _him_. “I can make it on my own, thanks.”

“I don’t doubt you can make it on your own,” he agreed. “But I would like to walk with you. I keep up with your blog and I have a couple of questions I wanted to ask you.”

Looking unconvinced, Alya conceded. Anything for the blog. “It’s a kind of long walk, but if you really want to, I’m not gonna argue,” she finally conceded.

“Sweet. My legs could use the stretching. See you tomorrow, bro.” Adrien tried to ignore the wink his friend not-so-subtly shot at him.

“Yeah… See you tomorrow, Nino.”

Marinette and Alya hugged goodbye, and the mismatched couple walked off together.

“Um… Do you live near here?” Adrien asked. “I’m not that far away, so I could walk you home… If you want, I mean. I could help carry stuff.”

Marinette eyed the uneaten goods. There weren’t very many of them. “It’s not a problem,” she said. “I live really close to here, so I should fine.” She smiled up at him, and his heart skipped. “Thanks, though.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, not really meaning to. Of course she would be fine. She was the Miraculous Ladybug. But he wasn’t ready to leave her. “I mean… I know you’ll be fine, but it kind of has to do with my upbringing. I’d feel bad letting you carry everything.” It had nothing to do with his upbringing, but he would feel bad. Especially if it started raining and she got wet. Carrying stuff was much more miserable when wet.

“I mean…” She pursed her lips at the ground. He could swear he was dying, standing this close to her and loving her so much. He prayed she would let him go with her. “I mean, if you want to come, that’s fine with me,” she said finally, smiling softly. He held back a cheer.

“I want to come,” he said with a smile of his own. He intercepted her reach for the leftovers. “Here, allow me.”

Marinette was much less stubborn than her friend. “Thank you,” she said, shouldering her bag.

“So… how’s school?” he asked as they exited the park.

“It’s alright,” she replied. “It’s a bit busy, but I am a senior, so I guess that’s to be expected. Your friend… Chloe. She’s been a bit nicer lately. Do you know anything about that?”

“Really?” he asked, smiling. He was relieved that she had listened to him. To be honest, he hadn’t expected her to. “That’s good to hear. She’s not a totally awful person, I promise. She’s just… kind of awful. I mean, I know she’s pretty bad at school, but she’s not like that all the time. Um… I’m sorry about that thing. In the mall. I probably could have handled that better.” His eyes were to the ground, watching her feet as he followed her down the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marinette assured him. “I used to think she couldn’t really be that bad, but after a few years I was feeling a little bit pessimistic. I don’t think what happened is your fault.”

“I appreciate that. And thank you for noticing that she’s trying.”

“Of course,” she replied easily. “It took me off guard at first. She walked into class and didn’t immediately say anything mean to me. I just thought she was distracted.” Marinette laughed, and Adrien laughed too, although he was worried if that kind of behavior was just expected from Chloe. They’d have to work on that. “But then she just kept on not being horrible. I mean, she wasn’t nice, but she just… didn’t talk to me. I’m not complaining.”

“Ah…” Marinette stopped in front of a cute, window-lined bakery. “This is my stop. Want to bring all of that inside?”

Adrien eyed the place with reverence. “Yeah. No problem.”

She held the door open for him, and he looked around the shop in awe. As a bakery, it was cute, but not necessarily special. But as Marinette’s home…What a wonderful place. He saw Marinette take off her shoes and followed suit.

“Who is this?” asked a woman’s voice, and Adrien’s eyes settled on the petite Chinese lady behind the counter.

“ _Maman,_ this is my friend Adrien. Adrien, this is my mom.”

“Adrien,” she repeated, looking at him thoughtfully. “Oh, oh, you can just set that bread here,” she directed while clearing a space on the counter. “Thank you, thank you. Friend from school?”

“Not really,” he answered sheepishly. “My friend is Marinette’s classmate. Some of us were studying, but the others left, and I didn’t want her to get stuck in the rain on her own.” As if to validate his concern, droplets started to patter lightly against the glass.

“How polite!” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng exclaimed. “I like him,” she said to her daughter, who blushed. Watching her, Adrien swallowed. Ladybug rarely blushed, but Marinette seemed to do it all the time. It was charming.

“Oh! Mom!”

“Yes, honey?”

“Adrien speaks Chinese!”

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s face lit up. “ _Shi ma?_ ” she asked him.

“ _Shi,_ ” he replied shyly. “ _But I’m not that good_.”

“ _Nonsense!_ ” Marinette’s mother replied. And then, in French, “I like him.”

“ _Xiexie_.” Now Adrien was starting to blush. “Um…I should probably head back home before the rain picks up.” He turned toward the door.

“You will not!” the woman argued. “No guest of mine leaves in the rain. Feel free to stay for as long as it keeps up. Once Marinette’s father comes back, we’ll have dinner. You should join us.”

“I’d hate to intrude,” he responded hesitantly, looking at Marinette for a cue.

“You’re not intruding,” Marinette assured him. “Besides, Mom really won’t let you walk home in the rain. Stronger men than you have tried.”

“There are no stronger men than me, Princess.” He hadn’t meant to say that, and her eyes had widened before she burst out laughing.

“Of course there aren’t,” she agreed sarcastically. “If that’s what makes you feel good about yourself.”

“You know what?” he retorted. “It does make me feel good about myself. Being the strongest man around is hard work, you know.”

“Strongest man in the study group, maybe. But that’s just because Nino hasn’t worked out since he finished his PE credits.”

“Nino would be very offended to hear you say that,” Adrien scolded her, laughing.

“You two should go play games or something,” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng told them. “Have fun.”

“ _Xiexie,_ Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.”

            “So formal! You can call me Sabine,” she instructed.

            “Sabine,” Adrien repeated.

            “Marinette, show the boy to the living room.”

            “Will do, Mom. Adrien, come on.”

            He followed her through the side door and into the cozy living area, where he stood awkwardly in the doorway until Marinette ushered him to take a seat on the large sectional couch. He sat, tentatively. Marinette sat on the other side, seeming unsure of what to say.

            “We could watch TV…” she finally suggested. “Or…um…” Her eyes lit up. “Are you into games?”

            Adrien felt a slow smile pull at the corners of his tense mouth. “That depends on the game,” he replied coyly.

            “Well, my personal favorite is Ultimate—“

            “Ultimate Mecha Strike Three!” Adrien finished for her excitedly. “Yes!”

            She grinned back. “Sweet! Let’s see if your genius helps you here.”

            “I’m not a genius, but I should warn you, I am pretty good,” he cautioned her with more than a hint of arrogance in his tone.

            Marinette pouted. “I’m alright, but you might need to go a bit easy on me…”

            “But of course, my lady.” He consciously kept himself from flinching at his own words. They slipped out too easily! How would he ever keep his identity a secret if he kept using Chat’s lines?

            “You’re too kind,” mumbled the ever-humble Marinette. Adrien should have caught on to the sarcasm in her voice, but he chalked it up to the regular Ladybug sass.

            And of course, she chose the ladybug mecha. He couldn’t help but smile at that. The smile quickly vanished from his face when she knocked him out in less than thirty seconds.

            “You went too easy,” she deadpanned as he gawked at the screen.

            “A classic swindle,” he whispered in awe, and then turned to her with eyes full of shock and hurt. “You swindled me!”

            “You didn’t make it very hard,” she responded nonchalantly. “We on for real now?”

            “Oh. We’re on.”

            He performed much better on the next round—it took her two full minutes to attain a crushing victory. By the third round, he was getting used to her style, but she was also getting used to his. Five minutes, Ladybug victory.

            “I thought you said you were good,” Marinette teased.

            “I didn’t realize I was playing a champion,” he grumbled.

            “Oh, so you’ve heard of me?”

            “What?” Adrien scrunched his nose as he tried to understand what she meant.

            “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Paris Regional High School Champion?”

            “You’re lying.”

            “I would never!” she exclaimed in mock indignation.

            “I think that you would,” he mumbled.

            Marinette giggled. “Okay,” she admitted, “I would. But I’m not. Still, though, you’re not bad. Maybe you and Papa can have at it later.”

            “Your dad plays?” Adrien asked. He knew his father wasn’t the model of paternal affection, but he hadn’t ever thought of parents playing video games with their kids.

            “Of course! He’s the one who introduced me to it. He doesn’t like playing with me anymore, for some reason.” She pouted.

            “Because losing to your daughter stops being fun after the five hundredth time in a row,” announced a deep voice behind them. Adrien instinctively sat up straighter, before turning to see the gigantic man in the doorway. He tried not to display the fear that instantly overtook him. Was this bear actually Marinette’s father?

            Marinette had run around the couch to give the imposing man a hug. Upon seeing the terror that had set upon Adrien, Mr. Dupain-Cheng laughed boomingly and good-naturedly. “Nice to meet you, son,” he said. “I’m Tom, Marinette’s father. You must be Mari’s friend Adrien.”

            Adrien jumped to his feet. “Yes, sir. Honored to meet you.”

            Tom laughed again. “Don’t be so formal. None of Mari’s friends call me sir. It’s Tom. Sabine wanted me to let you two know that dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

            “Thanks, Papa,” Marinette replied. “We’ll come in when it’s finished.”

            “I’m not invited to the tournament?”

            “Me losing every round is hardly a tournament,” Adrien grumbled.

            “You can play him later,” Marinette offered. “I want to beat him a few more times first.”

            Tom laughed. “Alright, alright. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He held up a hand to stop Adrien’s protest. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll see you two at dinner.”

            “No need to be so scared,” Marinette reprimanded once her father had left the room. “He doesn’t bite.”

            “I’m less worried about his teeth,” Adrien argued half-heartedly.

            “He’s harmless,” Marinette assured him. “I promise. Just be careful of his handshake. You wanna go again?” She held up the controller.

            “I think I’ve lost enough for the moment. Actually…” He wondered if it was okay to ask, but dove in anyway. “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to see a few of your designs? I’m kind of interested in fashion myself, and I’d like to see what you’re into.”

            Marinette’s eyes widened. “Um, sure, if you want to. One sec, I’ll run up to my room and grab my sketchbook. Stay right there.” And with that, she scampered over to the ladder in the corner and climbed up and through the trapdoor.

            _What an interesting set-up,_ Adrien thought to himself. He’d never seen a house quite like this one.

            He wandered around the room a bit while he waited for Marinette to return, viewing with a warm fascination the family pictures hanging on the wall. They all looked so happy. There weren’t very many photos around the mansion, and most of those were fairly somber. The quality of these was much lower, but they were so much more appealing. The decorations in the mansion made the place feel like a portfolio; Marinette’s house was warm, full of noise and memories. When people said there was no place like home, they must have been thinking of a home like this. A home like a hearth fire, a place to thaw out frozen hands and fill up empty hearts. A small swell of sadness touched the pit of his stomach, a sense of longing for something he should have been given. Sadness, yes, but not jealousy. He was grateful that Marinette had grown up in a place like this. For all of the warmth in her heart, she certainly deserved it.

            She came clambering back down the staircase. He was noticing that she wasn’t the most graceful bug in the garden, and it was adorable.

            “These are some I’ve been working on,” she explained breathlessly, opening the notebook she had given him to the middle. “This one definitely still needs some work, but the one right here I think is pretty good, although I’m obviously a little bit biased. Not for me, but for someone like Alya, you know?” The design in question was excellent, no doubt about it. It wasn’t even his bias speaking; Marinette was good. There was one thing he didn’t quite understand, though.

            “Why for Alya?” he asked. “I mean, you’re right, it would look good on her. But why not for you?”

            Marinette looked down, biting her lip. Her shyness was cute, but he could sense something a little bit deeper in this moment. “Well, I mean… I just think it would look better on someone more feminine, I guess?”

            “But Alya isn’t more feminine than you,” Adrien argued, and then caught himself. “I mean, I don’t know her that well, so maybe it isn’t my place to say so. But she doesn’t strike me as all that girly.”

            “That’s not what I mean. I mean, like… physically…? She just looks more feminine. It’s not a bad thing for either of us,” she quickly added. “It’s just a thing.”

            Adrien mulled that over, but he still didn’t quite get it. “I don’t see it,” he stated finally. “I mean, she’s obviously a woman, but you are, too.” He winced. “That sounded creepy. You probably don’t want some random guy talking about whether or not you’re…womanly…or whatever.” He winced again. That was even worse. “What I’m trying to say,” he concluded, “is that you seem pretty feminine to me.”

            He was turning red, and Marinette was clearly trying not to laugh at him. “Thank you,” she said at last. “I appreciate the compliment.”

            Before Adrien could fumble any further, he was blessed by Tom’s interruption to announce that dinner was ready. Adrien followed Marinette into the dining room, where Sabine had set out two large pans of a beautiful lasagna. Adrien stared in awe, his nose filled with the breathtaking aroma of fresh home cooking.

            “It’s a new recipe,” Sabine explained, “so I hope it tastes okay. _It’s eggplant,_ ” she said in Chinese.

            At Marinette’s ushering, Adrien took the seat next to his friend. “ _I love eggplant_!” he responded, also in Chinese. And then, in French, “I’m sure it will be excellent. It smells fantastic.”

            Sabine grinned. “You’re too nice,” she argued, waving off his compliment.

            The table fell into comfortable conversation as Sabine and Tom asked the kids about their day. Adrien’s prediction had been correct: the lasagna was phenomenal. He ate three helpings, at Sabine’s encouragement. He was sure this was one of the best dinners of his life, but not because of the food.

            His phone buzzed, and he checked the screen.

            Nathalie.

            _Your father wants to know where you are,_ read the text.

            He sighed. All good things must come to an end.

            _I was out studying with some friends and it started raining, so one of them let me come over,_ he answered. At the moment, he didn’t have it in him to be rebelliously coy.

            _Give me the address. I’ll send a ride._

He would do no such thing. It was close enough to make for an easy walk. “I’m sorry,” Adrien announced to the questioning faces of his host family. “It’s my father’s assistant. Apparently it’s time for me to go home.”

            “Such a shame,” Tom lamented. “I was looking forward to playing Mecha Strike with someone I might actually be able to beat. Is your dad going to pick you up?”

            “I was just going to walk,” Adrien replied. His _father_ come pick him up? The idea was almost funny. He thought of Gabriel driving a minivan, waiting for him outside of the bakery. Hilarious.

            “You will not!” Sabine declared. “Let Tom drive you.”

            Adrien’s eyes widened. “That’s not necessary,” he assured her. “I actually live fairly near here. It’s not a problem.”

            “Nothing doing,” Tom announced, wiping his face and standing up. “It’s still wet out there. If you live so close, it will be a short drive.”

            Adrien didn’t know how to accept the man’s offer, but he didn’t know how to refuse it, either. So instead of arguing, he thanked Sabine for the meal, wished Marinette a good night, and followed Tom out to the family’s sedan.

            “Don’t look so scared,” Tom scolded him after Adrien gave him the address. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sure I don’t need to give you the father-daughter talk, right?”

            This statement did not, in fact, ease Adrien’s anxiety. “No, sir,” he replied. “I would never do anything to Marinette.”

            “I can tell,” Tom assured him. “And I can also tell I don’t need to threaten you in order to terrify you.” He laughed heartily while Adrien laughed uncomfortably. If Tom were to threaten him, Adrien would probably dissipate. “Turn here?”

            “Yes, sir,” Adrien replied. “Really, I have a lot of respect for your daughter. She’s…” He didn’t know how to finish that statement. How much could he say? He couldn’t say that she was the most incredible person he had ever met. So far as Tom knew, Adrien was a recent acquaintance.

            “Yeah,” Tom finished before Adrien had time to stress out more. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? Sabine and I have been blessed.”

            Finally, Adrien smiled a sincere smile. “That,” he said, “she is. Oh, this is it.”

            As the car pulled to a stop outside the gate, Tom’s face showed his slow understanding of Adrien’s position.

            “You’re Gabriel’s boy,” he registered.

            “Ah… Yes, sir,” Adrien responded. He didn’t like to be identified by his father, but it wasn’t untrue.

            “That’s a big house,” Tom said quietly, and maybe a little bit darkly. “Son, our home is open to you anytime.”

            That was not what Adrien had expected to hear. “Um… Thank you, sir. And thank you for letting me stay over today. I really appreciate it.”

            Tom looked him in the eye. “It was our pleasure. And I mean it, Adrien. Anytime.”

            Adrien swallowed, nodded, and exited the car. The gate opened up for him, and he noticed that Tom didn’t drive away until Adrien had crossed the lawn and opened the front door.

            He greeted Nathalie meekly and retreated to his room. Maybe Tom understood? He found it hard to believe, but it was at least a possibility.

            Plagg came out of hiding and kept him company as he finished the homework he hadn’t been able to focus on in the park. It was quiet in his room, and even if Plagg wasn’t the most pleasant companion, Adrien was thankful not to be alone.

            Later, lying in the dark and waiting for sleep to come for him, Adrien felt a leftover warmth burning deep in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter is over 5,000 words.  
> Muscular Marinette is a fancanon I firmy support. #strongisbeautiful  
> I like to think that Tom would be the father Adrien never really got. Home is a very important thing to me, so I hope that Adrien gets to experience some of that, as well. Overall, writing this chapter made me really happy, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did :)


	5. Reveal No.1

Sitting at the corner table he had become so familiar with, Adrien felt a deep sense of peace as he watched Marinette baking back in the kitchen. After a month and a half of coming here regularly, he was finally able to focus on other things even in her presence. His eyes still wandered on occasion, obviously, but being in the shop with her had become a comfortable thing for him. It was nice. Nino came with him fairly often, but today it was just him and his homework… and a few comics. He had brought enough to make sure he wouldn’t run out of entertainment before she got off work.

Today was special. Plagg had mocked him in his room earlier when he took twice as long as usual to get ready. He felt the most delightful anxiety tugging at his stomach, and he tried to push it down. Really, nothing extraordinary was happening. Nothing to get too excited about. And yet, the _papillons_ remained.

Today, he would be walking Marinette home.

If she invited him in, he would say yes, although she probably wouldn’t. He tried not to expect her to, anyway. Just because it was a Saturday didn’t mean she didn’t have other plans.

Even if she didn’t invite him in, it would be fine. After a couple of weeks, Adrien had taken up Tom on his hospitality. Surprisingly, Marinette was only half of his reason for visiting. He found that he really enjoyed her parents, and he had realized that her house was a very special place. Usually using the excuse of practicing English, he tried not to intrude often enough to impose, but he had spent enough time there that being around her and going to her house were nothing out of the ordinary.

He shivered, zipped up his hoodie, and checked the time on his phone. Just after two. Marinette’s shift would end in almost an hour. He walked up to the counter.

“A bit impatient?” Alya asked him.

“Huh?” Adrien’s cheeks pinked a bit. “No, no, I was just getting a bit hungry. What’s she working on right now?”

“Marinette!” Alya called. Adrien jumped. “What’s in the oven?”

“Cookies,” Marinette called back. “They’ll be out in just a couple of minutes.”

“Just your luck,” Alya told Adrien. “Want me to send her over with a couple once they’re done?”

“That would be great. I’ll take another coffee, while I’m at it.”

“Do you usually drink three cups a day?” she raised his eyebrow at him.

“Three a day wouldn’t be that bad, to be honest.” His daily average was four. “I keep pretty busy.”

“You’re going to die when you get to college,” Alya warned him. “But it certainly isn’t my place to tell Adrien Agreste how to live his life.”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. She… knew? Since when did she know?

She laughed at him. “You’re as subtle as Chloe’s seasonal handbags. Don’t worry, so far as I know Marinette hasn’t caught on yet. I’m keeping my mouth shut. Still…” She turned serious. “You might want to be careful. Marinette takes honesty _very_ seriously. If you keep it from her for too long, she might get hurt. And you don’t want to know what I’d do to you if she got hurt.”

“I don’t know what I’d do to myself if she got hurt,” Adrien mumbled to himself. “Thanks for the advice,” he said, straight-faced. And then he wandered back to his seat, feeling slightly off-center, like coming up from the sea with water in your ears.

He had managed quite admirably to forget his guilt over… deceiving her. Not lying. Just not _… telling_. Everything was so perfect and he was terrified of ruining it. He felt closer to her on patrols, they were fighting together better, and he was so happy. He realized with a flash of shame that it wasn’t even guilt taunting him at this point—it was bold-faced fear. If Alya was this concerned over his not telling Marinette about his _job_ , how would his lady react to finding out that her very own _partner_ had been purposefully hiding his identity from her?

And for what? To get her to date him?

Yeah, right.

He thought of how excited he had just been about walking her home. His plan was working… But at what cost?

He was startled out of his contemplation by a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Two cookies and a drip coffee?” Marinette asked him, smiling.

He smiled back appreciatively. Her presence relieved even his anxiety concerning her. Oh, how he adored her.

“Thank you.”

She set the plate and the mug by his open textbook. “Two creamers, one sugar, right?” she asked, motioning towards the accessories on his plate. He had never told her his preference, but she had noticed. And she had _remembered._ A grin stretched over his face and his heart stretched inside his chest. His guilt and fear eased back as the slightest bit of confidence bloomed within him. She was so good. She was so _good_. Maybe, just maybe… She would forgive him.

And maybe she would accept him.

“Careful with the cookies,” she warned. He blinked. Right. Real world. “They’re hot.”

“Not as hot as you,” he smarmed. She laughed and punched him in the shoulder, but he didn’t miss the flush of pink in her cheeks. He also didn’t miss that she punched _hard_ , even when she was playing. It was those Ladybug muscles. Should that be sexy? That was definitely sexy.

“You still good to walk home?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great.” She smiled. She nudged his book. “Keep up the good work.”

He motioned to the cookies. “You too, Princess.”

She bit her lip, nodded, and scurried back to the kitchen.

 _Hé_ … He loved her so much.

While he waited, enjoying her melty, perfect cookies and sipping at his coffee, he tried to push his conversation with Alya out of his mind. He would have plenty of time to obsess over his guilt later. Instead, he finished the last two problems in his book, packed up, and pulled out a comic. _Spider-Gwen_ , as per Nino’s recommendation, as per Alya’s recommendation. Adrien knew they weren’t getting along this well only to help him and Marinette get together.

Business was slow, so Alya ended up sending Marinette out a few minutes early. Adrien held the door for her as they left the shop and headed towards Marinette’s house.

“I feel like you should know,” Adrien started slowly, waiting until Marinette set her big blues eyes on him in curiosity, “that your cookies are actually the best cookies ever made in the world.” She laughed. “No, I’m serious!” he continued. “See, my family, we’ve always travelled a lot, and my grandpa started this list of the greatest cookies in the world. My father continued the work, and I help. So I happen to know for a fact that the previous greatest cookies were a full 0.7% less great than yours.”

She laughed harder. “I’d like to see that list,” she said.

“Sorry,” he responded seriously. “No can do. Totally classified. Honestly, I shouldn’t have even told you where you rank. A slip on my part, really.”

Approximately four minutes into their walk, Marinette came across a puddle. Unfortunately, she was unaware that she had done so, and when her foot slipped, her body’s solution to the problem was to collapse sideways. Adrien tried to catch her, but his reflexes weren’t quite what they were as Chat Noir, and he merely lost his balance and fell to his knees next to her.

“OhmygoshMarinetteareyouo—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted him with a small, forced laugh. “Happens all the time.” But when she tried to right herself on her feet, she winced.

“Let me look at it,” Adrien said, dropping back the ground and lifting up her pant leg to see her ankle. He was no doctor, however, and had no idea what he should be looking for. All he saw were delicate ankles dressed in pastel pink knee socks.

“It’s fine,” Marinette assured him. “It’s just sore.”

Out of curiosity, Adrien pressed a thumb gently against the joint, and she almost doubled over.

“That’s not fine,” he declared decisively, straightening up. He held out his arms. “Up you go.”

“You are not carrying me,” Marinette stated, crossing her arms. She would have looked more convincing if she wasn’t leaning all of her weight onto her right foot.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

She tried to take a step and winced. “I can just lean,” she conceded, and he wrapped an arm around her side to support her.

It took them four minutes to cross one block.

“It will be sundown before we get you home,” Adrien informed her. “Seriously, I can carry you. It’s fine.”

“You’re not carrying me,” she argued. He could that tell this wasn’t a discussion point—Marinette did not want to be carried.

“What do you want to do, then?” he asked.

“I can just call my…” She stopped. “Crap.”

“What is it?”

“My parents are out of town this weekend. They’re visiting my dad’s brother in Lyon.”

“I can call Nathalie,” Adrien offered. “She’ll send a ride.”

“That would be really nice, Adrien,” Marinette replied gratefully.

“Let’s find you a bench, first,” he said. Once they reached a place to sit down, Adrien pulled out his phone and called Nathalie. She picked up on the second ring.

“Is there a problem?” she asked. Such a warm answer made his heart melt. Not.

“Kind of,” he answered. “My friend hurt her ankle. Could you possibly come pick us up?”

“I’ll send your bodyguard,” she answered shortly. Adrien was going to argue—did Marinette really need to know he had a bodyguard?—but then he thought again about his conversation with Alya.

If he was ever going to open up…

“Thanks,” he said finally. “We’re at 1711 Rue de ______.”

“He will be there shortly. Is there anything else?”

“ _Non, merci._ ”

“Very well.” And with that, she hung up. She had been more and more irritable since he had started disappearing so often. He had thought it was good that he had at least started letting her know when he would be gone, but apparently his social life was still an inconvenience for her. Whatever. It was her job, after all. It wasn’t his fault that he existed.

“Is everything okay?” Marinette asked. She looked concerned.

“Of course. A ride’s coming to pick us up.”

“Great!” She smiled at him. “Thank you, Adrien.”

“Of course,” he said again. “I should warn you about something.”

She cocked her head and set her warm gaze on him. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, everything is… fine. But I’d like for you to come to my house. We have someone there who can take a look at your ankle and figure out what we should do about it. Is that okay?”

“I really don’t want to impose,” she said slowly. “You’re already waiting with me and because I’m such a klutz your assistant has to come pick us up.”

“She’s my father’s assistant,” he corrected her. “And it’s not an inconvenience. I’d rather be here than not be here. Actually, I’m really glad I am here. I wouldn’t want you to have to limp all the way home.”

“It would be a little bit slow,” she agreed with a small laugh. Adrien laughed, too, but it was shallow and short.

“Nathalie isn’t picking us up,” he informed her. “She sent someone.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “She sent my bodyguard,” he clarified.

“Bodyguard?”

“Yeah. My bodyguard. He’s really cool, so don’t worry about that. But my house is kind of… large, so don’t be intimidated. There shouldn’t be many people there today.”

“Okay…” Marinette still looked confused, but she didn’t ask any more questions.

Adrien nodded shortly.

Surely she could read the deep anxiety layered over his face like ice on a leaf. He looked at the building in front of them and said nothing, and she didn’t say anything, either. They watched the people walking past, people who were enjoying a normal Saturday afternoon with worlds that weren’t falling apart.

Adrien felt a soft warmth on his hand, and looked down to see Marinette’s covering it. Her hand was so small and pale. He smiled at it softly, the shifted his own to cover hers. He let the touch give him comfort, tell him that maybe everything wasn’t about to go to hell.

Maybe she would stay.

He took a deep breath, and felt Marinette shiver.

“You’re cold,” he told her.

“I’m—”

But before she could say anything, Adrien was already shrugging off his fleece-lined hoodie and wrapping it around her shoulders. It was extra-warm: He had brought it just in case Marinette got cold while they walked home.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, slipping her hands into the pockets.

He wrapped an arm around her as an answer, ready to pull it back if she recoiled at all. But she didn’t. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He couldn’t tell if he was comforted or even more distressed.

Before too long, he heard a car park behind them, and all he could think was that he was grateful it wasn’t the limo.

“That’s our ride,” he said somberly. He supported Marinette as she hobbled to the car, opened the door for her, and helped her into the backseat.

Marinette scooted to the far side of the seat, buckled in, and sat up very straight, eyes wide at the huge man in the driver’s seat,

“You know first aid, right?” Adrien asked the Gorilla. The man nodded. “Can you take a look at her ankle once we get inside the house?” Another nod. “Thank you.” Nod number three.

Adrien smiled weakly at Marinette, who smiled back less weakly. Apparently she was less shaken than he was.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Adrien leaned into the front seat to plug in an auxiliary cord. “What do you listen to?” he asked.

“Anything,” she answered.

“That’s not helpful,” he admonished her. “Seriously. What do you like? Here.” He offered her the cord.

“What do you like?” she asked, taking it from him.

“Anything,” he teased her. “Nah. I listen to a lot of techno stuff and whatever Nino’s into at the moment, but I don’t have very strong tastes. I like just about anything. I’d rather hear what you’re in the mood for than anything else.”

She laughed softly. “Okay then,” she said simply, plugging the cord into her phone and scrolling through her music. The song she chose was relaxed and acoustic, with that light, rough kind of voice that was popular in America. “This one’s kind of old, but I’ve been listening to it a lot lately.”

Adrien listened carefully as Marinette mouthed the lyrics and swayed gently. It was in English, and he could swear he had heard it before. The lyrics didn’t make any sense to him, though. _Skinny love_? Maybe it was a euphemism. Still, it was a nice song. He liked it. Marinette actually started singing along lightly to the last chorus, and her strong accent made him smile. She really was breathtaking.

What took her breath away, however, was the gate to the mansion. All of the tension that had eased from his body sieged back upon him with a vengeance and he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

“I warned you,” he said. She just nodded.

When the Gorilla stopped the car by the steps, Adrien helped Marinette out of the car, told the chauffeur they would be in his room, and supported Marinette as they slowly made their way toward the front doors. The Gorilla pulled away to park.

“There are a lot of stairs to get to my room,” Adrien told her apologetically. “We can go slow.”

Her eyes grew even wider once they were inside. Although he didn’t have to do it often, he hated bringing friends to the house for the first time. It was huge and impressive and terrifying and they always acted so shocked. Yes, it was a big house. But it was just a house.

Really, he just hated that it was _his_ house. A symbol of the status he didn’t want. Marinette’s house said something about her that was warm and special and appealing. He didn’t want to know what the mansion said about him.

“Is… Is the carrying offer still available?” Marinette asked as she stared at the daunting staircase that led to the second story.

“Definitely,” he answered, reaching an arm down around her knees and hefting her up princess-style. She was actually heavier than he had expected, but he had no intention of letting her know that. He kept his breathing under control as he carried her up and around the stairs and didn’t set her down until they were in his room, laying her carefully on the couch. He was grateful for the sunlight that shone in through his windows, making the room seem brighter and less icy than the rest of the mansion.

It was his personal speculation that his father had had the mansion painted white for the express purpose of making it uncomfortable, and the fashionable minimalism had been an added bonus.

“What did you say your father does?” she asked him. His anxiety concentrated itself in his stomach and his forehead, making him feel cold and heavy.

He took a deep breath. “My father… is… a designer,” Adrien finally admitted, surrendering. He couldn’t look at her, so he sat on the floor and leaned back against the couch. “Gabriel Agreste.” He could imagine the shock on her face.

“So... that makes you…”

“Adrien Agreste,” he mumbled.

She was silent for a few moments.

“You know,” she finally said, “I’m actually not that surprised. I mean, it explains a lot. I can’t say that I figured it out, because I didn’t, but it does make sense. Being friends with Chloe, how Alya acted like I should know you, the fashion thing.” He didn’t respond. “In my defense,” she continued, “I think I could have figured it out, if I had tried. I just figured that if it was something like that, you would let me know eventually. And here we are.”

“You’re not mad?” he asked tentatively, tempted to look back but not daring to.

“Not really,” she answered. “I mean, what were you supposed to do, introduce yourself as Adrien Agreste, fashion model and son of Paris’s most famous designer? And it’s not like I really needed to know. I wish you had told me sooner, yeah, and I feel silly for not figuring it out on my own, but I can understand where you’re coming from.”

Adrien felt only marginally better. Not telling her that he was Adrien Agreste and not telling her that he was Chat Noir when he knew that she was Ladybug were entirely different matters. He was relieved by her mild reaction; she wasn’t seeing stars, she wasn’t fawning over him, and she wasn’t angry. But this wasn’t enough, and he knew it.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He couldn’t let on that anything else was wrong. Even if he did have to tell her, he couldn’t do it now, and she couldn’t be suspicious. He wasn’t ready. And, somehow, even her gracious acceptance of his status made him feel worse in a way, because she was so perfect and he was still lying to her. He knew he was lying to her and he wasn’t strong enough to stop himself, even when, just now, she had accepted him so easily. It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

As miserable as he was, he couldn’t help smiling when she started running her fingers through his hair. He leaned back into her touch, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders.

After a few blissful seconds of peace, a careful knock interrupted the silence.

“Come in,” Adrien called, standing.

The Gorilla entered. Adrien ushered him over to the sofa.

“She tripped and I think that she sprained her ankle. Thoughts?”

The large man cuffed Marinette’s jeans and examined the offending joint. It looked to have swollen considerably since Adrien had checked it out. The man gently prodded it, and Marinette winced audibly.

“Definitely a sprain,” he concluded. “Unless she’s unreasonably fragile.” He chuckled the tiniest bit at his own joke, but Adrien only nodded seriously. “I’ll send up some ice, and she shouldn’t walk on it for at least two days, three if it’s still sensitive to the touch.”

“Thank you,” Adrien told him sincerely.

The man merely nodded and stood at attention.

“You’re dismissed,” Adrien said finally, hating it. It was the only acceptable way to send the man off in this situation, but it sounded so cold and superior. He avoided sounding like his father whenever he could help it. His bodyguard, however, expected this sort of send-off, and exited promptly. A few minutes later, a maid came in with an ice pack. She tied it to Marinette’s ankle and left.

“Is this how the rich live?” Marinette asked teasingly. She was smirking when she said it. Still, it bothered Adrien.

“Don’t say that,” he groaned. “I’m not ‘the rich.’ My father just likes to have other people do things for him.”

“Hey,” Marinette said seriously, looking him in the eye. “There’s nothing wrong with having money or being famous. I’m not going to be weird about it, so you shouldn’t, either.”

Adrien closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.

“If you’re worried about the Chloe thing,” Marinette continued, “don’t be. I know you aren’t like her. And,” she added before Adrien could argue, “I’m not saying that to insult Chloe. I know that you’re a good person, Adrien. Not just deep inside. You are absolutely and obviously a good person, rich and famous or not.”

Adrien swallowed, trying to reign in his reaction. He wasn’t used to hearing affirmations like that. Experiencing Ladybug’s compassion and encouragement within this emotionally-frozen prison of his was not an event he had prepared himself for. Unable to respond vocally, he sat on his knees in front of the couch and laid his head on Marinette’s stomach. She resumed playing with his hair while he tried to let the warmth of her words chase away the cold of his self-hatred. He had so many doubts about himself, but she had none of them.

He squinted his eyes closed and took another deep breath.

This was exactly what he had been missing.

And he couldn’t even enjoy it, not through the weight of knowledge pulling at his stomach and the resolution wrapping itself around his heart.

He needed to tell her.


	6. Reveal No.2

Ladybug didn’t show up for patrol on Monday night.

            Chat assumed her ankle must have still been hurting her, and he was grateful she was taking the night off. It was good that she was taking care of herself; he knew she usually didn’t.

            He tried to focus on that, and not on the weird relief/disappointment he felt. He had promised himself that the next time he saw her, he would tell her. He had been coaching himself all day, with some very minor encouragement from Plagg, working up his confidence to open up to her. After precisely eighteen dress rehearsals, he knew exactly how he was going to say it. It had been the only thing on his mind since the Gorilla had driven her home Saturday evening. He was almost excited to clear the air.

            He also felt a little bit nauseous with anxiety, but he pushed that aside.

            It didn’t matter anyway, because she wasn’t coming.

            _Because she’s injured,_ he reminded himself. He couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. All of this, her finding out his identity as Adrien, her assurance that she would accept him, what he had been preparing to do for days—all because she had slipped in a puddle.

            And now it was the same reason he couldn’t confess.

            Using his baton, he catapulted himself around Paris to work out some of his irritation. It pricked at every thought in his head, like a scab he was trying not to pick at. Didn’t want to open it up and leave a scar.

            What did he expect to happen once he told her? Would she—

            He grimaced. Adrien and Marinette were practically dating. Would that extend to Ladybug and Chat Noir? She had made it clear on more than one occasion that she didn’t see him that way. And she knew Chat better than she knew Adrien.

            _She’d drop him._

            His baton almost slid and he barely caught his balance before falling off the side of the rooftop. Breath shallow, he landed in a crouch and stayed there, staring at nothing.

            She would leave him.

            As if the fact that she didn’t want him romantically anyway wasn’t enough, he had _lied_ —consistently for almost two months—to his best friend. He was _dating_ her _while deceiving her_.

            The wrongness of his scheme finally pressed down on him, the reality of his crime sinking strong teeth into his lungs.

            She couldn’t forgive him for this.

            She would want to, sure. He knew she would. That was who she _was—_ the Miraculous Ladybug, who forgave all sins and fixed all errors.

            Marinette, whose soft blue eyes offered healing and whose hands sparked the gentle burn of comfort.

            And he was playing her.

            He could just disappear. At this point it wasn’t even the fear of her leaving him that he wanted to run from. Telling her this… that her best friend lied to her to become her almost-boyfriend, and _succeeded_ … That was a kind of hurt he couldn’t bear to inflict on her.

            Imagining his own betrayal reflected in her eyes… His brain sputtered to a stop as his body froze in place.

            He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

            He simply sat there for seconds, for minutes, staring forward, biting the inside of his cheek until it bled, the guilt and the fear and everything else that he couldn’t name simmering to a boil inside of him—and then he slammed his fist into the cement rooftop beneath him with as much force as he could muster in Chat’s suit.

            The blindingly bright flash of pain brought him back to reality, and he slowly brought his hand before his face to examine the damage. It was no good; he couldn’t see anything through his gloves.

            He gracefully dropped down to the ground in an alley.

“Claws in.”

 He and Plagg both stared at his hand, the second and third knuckles slightly out of place and the fingers swelling. There was no blood, however, his skin saved from breaking by the suit.

            “Well, that accomplished a lot,” Plagg drawled from Adrien’s shoulder.

            Adrien rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth in pain as he tried to form a fist. The injured fingers barely responded except to send distress signals at top frequency to his brain.

            He walked home in silence, using the face scanner on the gate to let himself in. He keyed in the code at the front door, opened it as silently as possible, and closed it as softly as he could, but he could only use his left hand. The sound would have been quiet during the day, but in the after-one a.m. tranquility it sounded like distant thunder. He was halfway up the stairs when the live-in butler crept into the foyer, and Adrien gave him a left-handed thumbs-up. Nothing to worry about.

            It was at this time of night that the mansion was at its most alien and desolate, but on this night in particular Adrien found a certain solace in it. He had worked off most of his anxiety and was left feeling a little bit hollow. Maybe he fit into this fortress. Maybe Adrien Agreste really was just Gabriel Agreste’s golden son.

            Maybe, if that was true, he didn’t have to tell her.

            He laid in his bed, staring up through the dark, trying to ignore the pulsing pain from his right hand. He should have gotten ice for it before coming all the way upstairs. He got up and picked a cold can of sparkling water out of the mini-fridge and went back to bed with the can lying on his outstretched hand.

            The intense cold hurt as it slowly numbed the distressed nerve endings wrapped around his probably-broken fingers. He let the pain drown out everything else for a while.

            “I could just stop,” he said quietly. “Just disappear as Chat Noir. Be Adrien Agreste forever. Life would go on.”

            “You have a job to do,” Plagg reminded him.

            “You could find someone else,” Adrien argued. He sighed. “Maybe you should anyway. I’m clearly not living up to my responsibility. Ladybug would be better off without me.”

            “You’re letting it deceive you,” Plagg said sternly. Adrien squinted into the darkness, not understanding what the kwami meant. “Your guilt,” it continued. “It wants to pull you away from what matters to you, and you're letting it. It's telling you that you’re protecting her, but really you’re only protecting yourself.”

            “Then what am I supposed to do?”

            “It is not my place to interfere with the relationship between the Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Before Adrien had the chance to snap back at the useless little fairy, Plagg continued. “But you should trust her.”

            “I would trust her with my life,” Adrien growled at him.

            “Is that why you’re hiding from her?”

* * *

 

            Not only did Adrien avoid the coffee shop, he avoided the entire block. He willingly volunteered himself for extra projects of his father’s, trying to stay as busy as possible. When Marinette texted him, he waited at least fifteen minutes before responding, and then he only told her that he was really busy and he couldn’t talk.

            When Nathalie had come in to wake him up on Tuesday morning, her shock at the swollen, purple condition of his hand had far exceeded his prior dread of showing her. It was almost funny.

            Gabriel’s reaction was not.

            “How did this happen?” he had asked, his face showing only irritation and disinterest.

            “I… punched a wall, sir,” Adrien had replied quietly, making eye contact with his father’s tie pin.

            “Can you tell me what you were trying to accomplish?”

            “No, sir. I was… stressed, sir.”

            “Has your schedule been so full that you can no longer function like a sane human being?”

            “No, sir.”

            There was silence, and then: “Does it have anything to do with that girl?”

            Adrien took a deep breath. “No, sir. It’s only my own fault.”

            More silence. “Very well, then,” Gabriel said finally. “Nathalie, have Mr. _____ drive Adrien to the hospital. You go with them.”

            “Yes, Mr. Agreste,” Nathalie answered, already calling the Gorilla on her cell phone.

            Adrien had broken his fingers, but not his whole hand, and so he was released with only two finger braces, a small bottle of painkillers, and a stern warning to let his hand rest. Five minutes into the drive home, Nathalie looked back from the front seat, her brows furrowed slightly in an expression of concern.

            “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. His first reflex was irritation: Nathalie, of all people, had the least right to be worried about him. At this point, though, he was too tired to be angry. He was too anxious about Marinette to be bitter about a woman who was only an employee. He wanted an ally, but she had never been obligated to be one.

            “I haven’t been alright since Mom left,” he said finally, sighing and leaning back into the seat. “And you know that. Don’t pretend to care now that I’ve actually hurt myself.”

            Nathalie didn’t respond, and there were no more words spoken for the remainder of the ride.

* * *

 

By the time Thursday night arrived, Adrien was exhausted. He was physically exhausted from the extra work he had volunteered for and emotionally exhausted from worrying about his big reveal. More than anything, he was ready to get it over with. If Ladybug didn’t come to him, he would go to her house. He needed her to know. Whether she accepted or rejected him, whether she was hurt or angry or didn’t care at all, he needed to tell her. Hiding from her was finally just too much.

            The fear was still there, but it was time to get over it.

            Chat paced anxiously across the peak of an elaborate roof. He breathed deeply, in and out, trying to monitor his heart rate. He just had to get through it.

            Finally, a few minutes after eleven, Ladybug appeared, swinging onto the rooftop and landing before him lightly. It felt like he hadn’t seen her in ages, and his next deep breath was involuntary. She was smiling, but on noticing the look on his face, her smile faded to a concerned frown.

            “Chat…” Her gaze wandered over his face, probably not missing his bloodshot eyes or the tension around his mouth. “Are you okay?”

            He corrected his posture, but then slumped right back.

            His mouth formed the words, but his voice didn’t back them up.

            Deep breaths.

            “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. Ladybug… Marinette… I should have told you. I know. I just—” His word-perfect apology suddenly seemed incredibly insufficient, falling to pieces as his tongue stumbled over every other word. As if a well-thought out apology would make his offense any lesser.

But when he lifted his eyes, she didn’t look… like anything he had expected. She had cocked her head to the side, the way she always did when she was putting pieces together. Her eyes didn’t question him or criticize him; they were as soft as ever, waiting for his to meet them.

            She stepped towards him.

            “It’s okay, Adrien,” she said softly, reaching up and running a thumb over his cheek. “I know.” And then, as he stood in shocked stillness, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. He couldn’t respond. His eyes slipped close, and when she finally leaned back, he followed her, almost falling forward. He caught himself on one foot, arms flailing out, and Ladybug laughed delightedly.

            Chat jerked himself upright, eyes widening and mouth hanging slightly open. He slammed it closed. Ladybug continued giggling as his mind sputtered to a restart.

            “But… How did you know?” he asked finally.

            “Your personas aren’t quite as distinct as you seem to believe,” she answered cryptically. “I figured it out in the mall that day after the Chloe debacle. You’re really sweet, you know that?”

            His heart was doing cartwheels as his brain struggled to keep up with her words.

            “You’re not…” His anxiety finally caught up with him, constricting his throat. In an act of will, he swallowed it down. “You aren’t angry?”

            “I was. But then I thought about it more, and I think I understand.”

            His gaze fell to his feet. “I thought you would hate me.” He could barely whisper the words. He felt gloved fingers on his jaw, gently tilting his face up until he was staring dejectedly right into the open depths of her oceanic eyes.

            “I could never hate you, Adrien,” she told him.

            “But… I lied to you. We’ve been partners for years, and I lied to you. For months.” His voice cracked. “I betrayed you.”

            “But you did tell me,” she responded quietly, holding his gaze. It was less like eye contact and more like a staring competition, his guilt against her firm assurance.

            Anxiety and relief and exhaustion and neediness pulsed inside of him. “Say that you forgive me,” he whispered huskily.

            “I absolutely forgive you,” she whispered back.

            He collapsed onto her, arms wrapping around her body and face pressing into her hair. He breathed deeply, in and out, absorbing relief from her arms that pulled him closer, the rain of her pardon watering his deep-seated thirst for acceptance. He took nourishment from the sweet peace that filled him at long last, and neither of them moved for a long time.

            Finally, Marinette pulled back and smiled up at him. He grinned back, his mouth stretched broad across his face, and Marinette swore that supermodel Adrien Agreste could never compete with the Adrien/Chat Noir beaming down at her. It was a good thing he didn’t have to.

            When she leaned up to kiss him again, he wrapped his fingers around her arms and pulled her closer. His right hand rebelled against the pressure, and he winced. She started to pull back, but he held her against him, kissing her soundly, relishing the feeling of her body melting into his. She was so warm, so bright, and he was so lucky to experience her light.

            She did pull back eventually, tracing his lips with her thumb. He kissed it.

“Next time,” she started, “please trust me more.”

“I will. I promise.”

Giggling, she met his gaze again, smiling mischievously.

“By the way, Kitty Cat…” she started. He furrowed his eyebrows.

            “Yes, Little Bug?” he asked.

            She pecked him on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

            _I loved you before I knew you were a supermodel._

And then she shot her yoyo at the next building, disappearing from in front of him. Mouth hanging open and green eyes sparkling, he watched her swing off into the night for a few seconds before launching himself after her.

            He could hear her laughing as he chased her, and the laughter that sprang from his own mouth came from a deep place of joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Adrien only likes even numbers.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after his reveal, Adrien and Marinette share an afternoon over video games, bad jokes, and sweet memories.

            The weak sunlight of a late March afternoon shone through Adrien’s picture windows onto the two teens sitting cross-legged on the couch, battling each other ferociously in UMS III.

            “That was _dirty_!” Adrien yelled when Marinette finally took the match.

            She smirked. He wasn’t wrong, but it was too much fun beating him to let him win. Somewhere along the line he had actually gotten good and she needed to start trying.

            “All’s fair in love and war,” she taunted. “Now are we going to play again, or are you going to go cry to da— _ahhh_!” She was cut off when he tackled her, pinning her against the couch and holding her wrists above her head.

            “I’m sorry,” Adrien smarmed, smirking down at her. “Did you say something?”

            “I said,” Marinette repeated slowly, staring up at him with wide-open eyes, “that poor losers can go cry to daddy.”

            “That might be a little bit difficult,” Adrien said thoughtfully, “seeing as I’m the only daddy I see here.”

            “You did not just say that.” Horror registered in Marinette’s face as she tried to pull her hands away. “That’s disgusting! Get off of me! I’m leaving!”

            He was grinning. “Ask nicely,” he sang.

            “Please get off of me,” she growled.

            “Please get off of me, _daddy_ ,” he corrected her, enjoying himself far too much until Marinette brought a knee up into his stomach and knocked him onto the ground.

            “I was just kidding!” he whined loudly, curling himself into the fetal position. “You’re so mean!”

            “Yeah, yeah. Now get up here for round five.”

            “No! I don’t play with mean people!”

            She sat down next to him on the floor and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

            “There,” she said, “all better. Now stop being a baby and come lose like a man.”

            “I’m not a baby,” Adrien whined. And then: “But I could be your baby daddy.”

            “Bye,” Marinette declared, standing up. “I’m leaving.”

            Adrien launched himself at her ankles, bringing her down onto the floor. “You’re not allowed to leave me!” he yelled while clinging to her legs. Marinette couldn’t help laughing, and she didn’t fight back when Adrien crawled over and sprawled on top of her. “Mine,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into her neck. Marinette had noticed that the more comfortable he got around her, the weirder he became. It was cute, though. She enjoyed it, and she was glad that he trusted her enough to be himself.

            She had seen him around other people, and he always appeared so subdued, so quiet and proper. The only other person who seemed to see strange Adrien was Nino, and slowly but surely it was coming out around Alya.

            The two of them laid there on the ground for a few minutes, and as Marinette was preparing to get up, she caught a glimpse of something under Adrien’s bed.

            “What’s this?” she asked, rolling over to drag out a long, flat storage bin.

            Adrien lay on his side, watching her. “Comics,” he said absent-mindedly. “There are a couple of other bins under there, too.”

            “Seriously?” The one she was looking at was filled to the brim.

            “Well, one of the bins is actually manga, but yeah. Why?”

            She stretched her arm under the bed to pull out the other two. “That’s just a lot,” she said. “I think Alya just reads them online.”

            “But where’s the fun in that? I like holding them.”

            Marinette opened the manga bin. Adrien had the entire _Bleach_ series, in addition to _Naruto_ and some other titles she didn’t recognize. “You’re such a nerd,” she teased, pulling out the first volume of _Case Closed_. “You could open a small store.”

            “They’ve been building up for a while,” he explained. “It’s not that bad.”

            “This is more impressive than my dad’s movie collection. What’s this?” She reached farther under the bed, pulling out a cardboard shoebox.

            “Um… I’m not sure.” He crawled over to join her next to the bed. “Oh! That’s just one of those treasure boxes kids fill up. I haven’t seen it in ages. Totally forgot about it.”

            An excited smile eagerly stretched across Marinette’s face as she opened the box, only to start laughing at the small pile of rocks filling half of it. “You had a rock collection!” she exclaimed. “That’s so cute!”

            “They were special!” he defended himself. “See this one?” He grabbed one, round, smooth, and smoky gray. “It’s from Nice on the Riviera. Mom said it would be perfect for skipping, so I saved it… for skipping. Sometime.”

            Marinette raised her eyebrows. “You know that by keeping it here, you’re obstructing that skipping stone from reaching its full potential, right? That’s just cruel.”

            “I was planning to use it!” he argued. He looked down at it thoughtfully, slowly running his thumb back and forth over the surface. Marinette watched him, watched the soft frown develop on his lips. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

            Eventually, Marinette placed her hand over his and the stone.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

            He quirked a small smile at her. “Not right now,” he answered, “but later.”

            She nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

            He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “I know you will,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

            “Do you want to finish going through the box, then?”

            “I don’t know. It feels like something really private, but… I want you here for it.”

            Marinette shuffled herself next to him and placed the box in his lap. “Then I’m right here,” she stated, leaning into his side.

            He smiled, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and took a deep breath. It was going to be a rough little trip down memory lane, but he knew it would be good for him, and he was relieved he didn’t have to take it on his own. A certain warm contentment told him that he was ready for this. “Then let’s dive in.”

            They made a little pile with the rocks behind the box and Adrien pulled out a small woven bracelet. “This is one of the friendship bracelets Chloe and I made.” Threads of green, yellow, and pastel blue braided around each other, resembling a matching bracelet buried somewhere deep in Chloe’s jewelry. “She said if we couldn’t use pink, then at least the blue had to be girly enough to not embarrass her. We wore these every day for… years. I wonder if she still has hers.”

            “You make her sound so likeable,” Marinette giggled. “I bet you two were adorable.”

            “Excuse you,” Adrien cried, indignant. “I am still adorable.”

            “Whatever you say, silly kitty. Oh my gosh!” She pulled out a sheet of construction paper on which two poorly-contrived children held hands among beaucoup floating flowers. Their features were not undetailed, but also not good. “Who drew this? You or her? It’s so cute!”

            Adrien’s cheeks were on fire. “Chloe,” he mumbled. “It was definitely Chloe.”

            “It’s so cute how you think you can lie to me,” Marinette teased, tapping the tip of his nose. “It’s not bad! How old were you? About eight?”

            “More like eleven,” he said very, very quietly. Marinette tried her hardest not to laugh, but it was a losing battle. Pouting, Adrien snatched the picture out of her hands. “You lose looking privileges!” he exclaimed. “If you’re going to laugh at me, you don’t get to look at anything else!”

            “I’m sorry!” Marinette wheezed, trying to contain herself. “It’s just so… cute…” She dissolved into more laughter.

            “Not all of us can be Marinette Dupain-Cheng, okay? Let me guess. You have an exact replica of the Mona Lisa you painted when you were nine.”

            “I was still drawing stick figures when I was nine,” she argued, “but at least _I_ could draw a flower.”

            “Looking privileges,” Adrien repeated. “Gone.”

            Marinette started to pull away, but he squeezed her arm tighter around her shoulders.

            “Who said you could go anywhere?” he asked.

            “You literally just said I couldn’t look at anything else.”

            “I didn’t say you could leave. Close your eyes.”

            “Adrien.” Marinette stared him in the face, and he met her eyes very seriously. “You’re being ridiculous.”

            “It may surprise you,” he said matter-of-factly, holding her stare, “but I’ve actually heard that before. Now close your eyes.” Giggling, she obeyed. “Good girl.” He kissed her lightly and then went back to work.

            There wasn’t much left in the box. A children’s Power Rangers watch, some papers autographed by actors and soccer players he had met through his dad, and a pack of photographs. He opened it, pulled out the first two, and slowed.

            He remembered taking them. The quality was poor, because they had been taken on a disposable camera bought especially for this trip to the mountains and because he had taken several of them himself. Depicted in the first was a small family: A very tall, very thin man who couldn’t be older than thirty, a stunning young blond woman with striking green eyes, and a small boy, nine years old at the time, with his mother’s soft features but a sharp gleam in his eyes that mirrored his father’s. They were all smiling. Adrien couldn’t remember seeing his father look so at peace in years. There was no tension, no weariness; just a young father, happy to be on vacation with his wife and son. Adrien swallowed.

            The second picture showed his parents on the ground, laughing. They had been on a hike and his mother had slipped and almost fallen off the side of the trail. His father had grabbed her and pulled her back, and they both fell to the ground. For a moment, Adrien had been terrified, but for some reason he had thought to snap a picture of his parents once they were safe. His mouth wanted to smile at the memory, but his eyes were prickling with tears.

            “She’s beautiful,” Marinette whispered, and Adrien didn’t even complain that she was clearly abusing her looking privileges.

            “Yeah,” Adrien whispered back around the sharp stone that had lodged itself in his throat.

            “I mean, I’ve seen the portrait, but… She looks so happy. The way she’s looking at your dad…”

            “Yeah,” Adrien responded.

            “You look like her.” He nodded. “I bet that makes her happy.”

            “She always said I look like father,” he whispered. “I think that made her happier.”

            “I think she was happy just to have you. You and your father. She must have loved you so much.”

            A tear meandered down his cheek as he struggled to keep his breathing even. Marinette’s arms slipped around him and something inside of him gave up. She hummed softly in his ear and ran her fingers through his hair while he cried into her shoulder. Every child who has lost a parent lies awake at night trying to picture their face, but eventually Adrien had stopped. He remembered her face. He saw it every time he looked at that portrait, and he remembered her voice clearly, and how clearly her emotions showed in her eyes. Adrien’s green eyes were unreadable, but her green eyes were open and honest.

            It wasn’t that he didn’t think of her, but that he had shut off his emotions concerning her. His father had never wanted to talk about it, and no one else understood. Now, however, someone was listening, and the gates he had closed years ago swung open with a vengeance. For the first time since he was young, he let himself be sad without being anything else. He felt his loss without clinging to his anger or his anxiety. And slowly, he began to feel just a little bit lighter.

            He remained huddled in Marinette’s embrace after he had finished crying. Her arms were a warm place, a place of comfort and safety. He took deep breaths, all of his air filtering across her skin before entering his lungs. Eventually, he pulled back, keeping his gaze down.

            “Sorry you had to see that,” he mumbled to the floor.

            “I’m happy I could be here for you,” she replied, one hand gripping his shoulder. “Do you want to come over? You can stay at my house tonight if you want to.”

            He met her eyes and smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I want to sort some things out on my own. But I’m glad you were here, too. Having you here helps me.”

            “I love you,” Marinette purred.

            “I love you, too.” He leaned forward and kissed her, softly at first and then less so, and she wrapped her arms back around him and pulled him closer.

            “Now,” he whispered huskily in her ear, “come sit in daddy’s lap like a good girl.”

            Marinette jerked back, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Why am I dating you?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Adrien rolled back on his heels, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Is it my dashing good looks? My purr-fect sense of humor? My exceptional wardrobe?”

She stood up and stalked towards the door, stopping by the couch to grab his sweatshirt. “I’m leaving,” she announced. “And I’m taking your Givenchy sweatshirt with me.” She stomped towards the door and paused. “I love you,” she grumbled. “Bye.” She could hear him laughing until she reached the stairs. He was a dork, but he was her dork.

Nathalie met her by the door. “Do you need a ride home?” she asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Marinette responded. “I like the walk.”

Nathalie nodded, then glanced around the room. “Thank you,” she said softly. Marinette nodded and smiled at the assistant before excusing herself into the cool evening.

Outside, dusk was falling. Marinette pulled the sweatshirt over her T-shirt and walked home. Was she just getting used to it, or did the Agreste mansion seem a little bit less oppressive than it had?

In the morning, she woke up to a text message from Adrien.

_Feel like a picnic?_

_Always,_ she texted back.

 _Great!_ Insert happy cat emoji. _We should go out by the river. I feel like skipping rocks today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm sorry. The daddy jokes just kept coming, and I had to write them because... because he would say them. I couldn't deny him. I am so sorry.  
>  Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this fic. I wrote it at an emotional time, and I think that shows a lot in the writing, but I also think it helped to make Adrien's emotions more realistic. Thank you so much for all of your kind comments. You've been an excellent audience :)


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